“And now you've such a lot of brothers, with Jasper and all those Whitney boys; oh, Polly, don't they scare you to death sometimes?”
Polly burst into such a merry peal of laughter, that they neither of them heard the rushing feet, until Cathie glanced up. “Oh dear me! there they are now!”
“Well, to be sure; we might have known you were here, Polly,” cried Jasper, dashing up with Clare. “How do you do, Cathie?” putting out his hand cordially.
Clare gave her a careless nod, then turned to Polly. “It's to be fine,” he said.
“What?” asked Polly wonderingly.
“Hold on, old chap.” Jasper gave him a clap on the back. “Father is going to tell her himself. Come on, Polly and Cathie, to his room.”
“Come, Cathie,” cried Polly. “Let's beat those boys,” she said, when once out of the greenhouse. “We're going to race,” she cried over her shoulder.
“Is that so?” said Jasper. “Clare, we must beat them,” and they dashed in pursuit.
But they couldn't; the two girls flew over the lawn, and reached the stone steps just a breathing space before Jasper and Clare plunged up.
“Well done,” cried Jasper, tossing back the hair from his forehead.