“I am glad to see you, Cathie,” said Mrs. Fisher heartily, taking her cold hand. “Now, you are to have the room right next to Polly's.”
“Yes, the same one that Alexia always has when she stays here,” said Polly. “See, Cathie,” bearing her off down the hall. “Oh, it is so good to get you here,” she cried happily. “Well, here we are!”
“You can't think,” began Cathie brokenly; then she turned away to the window—“it's so good of you to ask me, Polly Pepper!”
“It's so good of you to come,” said Polly merrily, and running over to her. “There, Johnson has brought your bag. Aren't you going to unpack it, Cathie?—that is, I mean”—with a little laugh—“after you've got your hat and jacket off. And then, when your things are all settled, we can go downstairs, and do whatever you like. Perhaps we'll go in the greenhouse.”
“Oh, Polly!” exclaimed Cathie, quite forgetting herself, and turning around.
“And can't I help you unpack?” asked Polly, longing to do something.
“No,” said Cathie, remembering her plain clothes and lack of the pretty trifles that girls delight in; then seeing Polly's face, she thought better of it. “Yes, you may,” she said suddenly.
So Polly unstrapped the bag, and drew out the clothes, all packed very neatly. “Why, Cathie Harrison!” she exclaimed suddenly.
“What?” asked Cathie, hanging up her jacket in the closet, and putting her head around the door.
“Oh, what a lovely thing!” Polly held up a little carved box of Chinese workmanship.