“The idea! Alexia Rhys, you are a great one to send after her,” cried Sally Moore. “Not even to tell her where we are going, or what we want her for!”
“Well, I got her here, and that is half of the battle,” said Alexia, in an injured way; “and my goodness me! Polly won't hardly speak to me now; and you may go yourself after her next time, Sally Moore.”
“There, girls, don't fight,” said Clem sweetly. “Polly, we are going out to Silvia Horne's. Mrs. Horne has just telephoned to see if we'll come out to supper. Come, hurry up; we want to catch the next car. She says she'll send somebody home with us.”
“Yes, yes, do hurry,” begged the girls, hopping up and down on anxious feet.
“I must ask Mamsie,” said Polly. “Oh, how perfectly splendid!” running off with a glad remembrance of lessons all ready for the next day. “Now how nice it is that Mamsie always made me get them the first thing,” she reflected as she sped along.
Mamsie said “yes,” for she well knew that Mrs. Horne was a careful person, and when she promised anything it was always well done. “But brush your hair, Polly,” she said, “it looks very untidy flying all over your head.”
So Polly rushed off to her own room; Alexia, who didn't dare to trust her out of her sight, at her heels, to get in the way, and hinder dreadfully by teasing Polly every minute to “hurry—we'll lose the train.”
“Where are you going, Polly?” asked Phronsie, hearing Alexia's voice; and laying down her doll, she went into the blue and white room that was Polly's very own. “Oh, may I go too?” as Polly ran to the closet to get out her second-best hat.
“Oh dear me!” began Alexia.
“No, Pet,” said Polly, her head in the closet. “Oh my goodness! where is that hat?”