“So do I,” chimed in the others.
“Oh dear me! I'm just toasted and fried,” declared Alexia. “I never was so hot in all my life.”
“You shouldn' have run so, Alexia,” said Polly reproachfully, patting the arm still in its sling. “Oh, how could you!”
“Well, did you suppose I was going to see you all sprinting off and having such fun, and not try it too? No, indeed; that's asking too much, Polly.”
Then she threw herself at full length on the grass, and gazed at her meditatively.
“Well, we mustn't have the second race, Philena,” said Polly; “because if Alexia runs again, it surely will hurt her.”
“Ow!” exclaimed Alexia, flouncing up so suddenly that she nearly overthrew Amy Garrett, who was sitting next, and who violently protested against such treatment, “now I won't keep you back, Polly. Oh dear me! it can't hurt me a single bit. I'm all ready to take off this horrible old thing, you know I am, only Dr. Fisher thought—”
“He thought it would be safer to keep it on till after the picnic,” Polly was guilty of interrupting. “You know he said so, Alexia. No, we won't run again, girls,” Polly brought up quite decidedly.
“Polly, you shall; I won't run—I really won't; I'll shut my eyes,” and Alexia squinted up her pale eyes till her face was drawn up in a knot. “I'll turn my back, I'll do anything if you'll only race; please try it again, Polly.”
So Polly, seeing that Alexia really wished it, dropped a kiss on each of the closed eyes. “Put your hand over them, and untwist your face from that funny knot,” she laughed. “Come on, girls,” and the race began.