“Yes, I had to, you see. Even dad, who lets me do anything I please, said I must remember I was a Forester, and make friends that fitted my name. And so—so” (Miss Polly looked up, smiling into Dan’s face) “I am going to make friends with you. Dad says he knows all about St. Andrew’s College, and you must be first-class boys if you belong there; and he is glad of a chance to give you a little fun. There he is calling us now!”—as a deep voice shouted:
“All aboard, boys and girls! We’re off in an hour! All aboard!”
“Dan—Dan,” piped Freddy’s small voice. “Jim and Dud are dressing for the party, Dan. Come, we must dress, too.”
And Dan, feeling like one venturing into unknown waters, proceeded to make the best of the things Good Brother Francis had packed in his small shabby trunk. There was the suit that bore the stamp of the English tailor; there was a pair of low shoes, that pinched a little in the toes; there was a spotless shirt and collar outgrown by some mother’s darling, and a blue necktie that was all a necktie should be when, with Freddy’s assistance, it was put properly in place. Really, it was not a bad-looking boy at all that faced Dan in the “Lady Jane’s” swinging mirror when this party toilette was complete.
“You look fine, Dan!” said his little chum, as they took their way down to the wharf where “The Polly” was awaiting them,—“so big and strong—and—and—”
“Tough,” said Dan, concluding the sentence with a forced laugh. “Well, that’s what I am, kid,—big and strong and tough.”
“Oh, no,—Dan, no!” said Freddy. “You’re not tough at all, and you mustn’t say so when you go to a girl’s party, Dan.”
“Well, I won’t,” said Dan, as he thought of the violet eyes that would open in dismay at such a confession. “I’ll play the highflier to-night if I can, kid; though it’s a new game with Dan Dolan, I must say.”
And, with a queer sense of shamming that he had never felt before, Aunt Winnie’s boy started off for Miss Polly’s party.
XVII.—Polly’s Party.