Part 19 (2/2)

”I'll divide with you, Polly,” said Jasper. ”I brought ever so many, and will go shares with my kodak, too.” But Polly made up her mind that Jasper's kodak was to be used for his own special pictures, for she knew he had set his heart on taking certain ones, and a good many of them, too.

”Isn't that water just perfectly lovely!” she exclaimed; ”such a bluish grey.”

”I think it's a greyish blue,” said Adela, squinting along its surface critically.

”Well, what's the difference?” asked Polly, laughing.

”Not much,” said Jasper, ”I should think.”

”Well, anyway, it's lovely,” declared Polly; ”I just wish I could paint it.”

”Do you paint?” asked Adela, suddenly.

”No,” said Polly, ”not a bit”

”Polly is all for music,” said Jasper, quickly. ”You ought to hear her play.”

”Oh, I can't play much now,” said Polly, ”but I mean tot some time.

Jasper, how long it is since we have had a duet.” Her face dropped its cheery curves and a sad little look crept into her eyes.

”That's the bother of travelling about; one can't play in a hotel,”

said Jasper. ”But wait till we get to Dresden, Polly.”

”Oh, I can't bear to wait,” said Polly. ”I don't want to hurry on, Jasper--but oh, I do wish we could play on a piano.” Her fingers drummed on the rail in her eagerness.

”Why, you are playing now,” said Adela, bursting into a laugh, ”or pretending to, Polly Pepper.”

”I know it,” said Polly, laughing too; ”well, that's what I always used to do in the little brown house,--drum on the table.”

”In the little brown where?” demanded Adela in astonishment.

”The little brown house,” answered Polly, and her eyes lightened as she seemed to see it before her. ”That's where we used to live, Adela--oh, the sweetest place, you can't think!” Polly's fingers stopped drumming now, and the colour flew up to her cheek; she forgot all about Adela.

”Oh, I suppose it had everything beautiful about it,” said Adela, delighted to make Polly talk, ”big gardens, and terraces, and--”

”Oh, no,” said Polly, ”it didn't have gardens at all, Adela, only a little bit of a green gra.s.s-plot in front. But there was an apple tree at the back.”

”Apple tree at the back?” echoed Adela, faintly.

”Yes, and we had beautiful plays under it,” cried Polly, rus.h.i.+ng on in remembrance; ”and sometimes when all the work was finished, Mamsie would let us spend the whole afternoon out there. You can't think what perfectly splendid times we had there, Adela Gray!”

Adela by this time was beyond words, but stared up at Polly's face speechlessly. ”And what fun it was on baking days, Polly,” cried Jasper, unable to keep quiet any longer; ”do you remember when I burnt all my cakes around the edges?”

”Well, that was because the old stove acted so,” said Polly; ”one minute it wouldn't bake at all, and the next it burnt things black.”

”And the was.h.i.+ng the dishes and things up afterward,” said Jasper, reflecting; ”I think I liked that just as well as the baking, Polly.”

”It was good fun,” said Polly; ”and how funny you looked with one of Mamsie's ap.r.o.ns tied round under your chin, Jasper.”

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