“Corking!” they breathed in unison.
Polly laughed, “I never knew any one to do that before,” she said. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll tell the other boys about it.”
“No, you mustn’t,” protested Ned. “It’s our invention. We’ll call it—call it—”
“Call it an Accident,” suggested Laurie.
“We’ll call it a Polly,” continued the other. “It really is bully. It’s—it’s different; isn’t it, Laurie? Have another?”
“Who were those on?” was the suspicious reply.
“You. The next is on me. Only maybe another wouldn’t taste so good, eh?”
“Don’t you fool yourself! I’ll risk that.”
However, the third and fourth bottles, properly combined though they were, lacked novelty, and it was some time before the last glass was emptied. Meanwhile, of course, they talked. The boys acknowledged that, so far, they liked what they had seen of the school. Mention of the doctor and Miss Hillman brought forth warm praise from Polly. “Every one likes the doctor ever so much,” she declared. “And Miss Tabitha is—”
“Miss what?” interrupted Laurie.