Part 14 (2/2)
”That's different,” answered Laurie, with dignity. ”Mine are all in the wash. Besides, it's an old one and you never wear it.”
”I never get a chance to wear it!”
”It must be very convenient for you,” said Mrs. Deane, smilingly, ”to be able to wear each other's things. Polly, I guess there won't be any one else in for a while; maybe they'd like to see your garden.”
Being a.s.sured that they would, Polly led the way through the back room, a pleasant, sunny apartment evidently combining the duties of kitchen and dining-room, and out to a little back porch shaded by morning-glories and nasturtiums that fairly ran riot over the green lattice. There was a braided rug on the floor and a small rocker and a tiny table on which were books and a magazine or two. The books were evidently Polly's school books, for they were held together by a strap.
The twins liked that garden. It wasn't very large, for when the peculiar Mr. Coventry had divided the estate he had placed the high board fence very close to the little frame dwelling; but perhaps its very smallness made it seem more attractive. Narrow beds encompa.s.sed it on three sides, and a gravel walk followed the beds. In the tiny square inside, a small rustic arbor, covered with climbing rose-vines, held a seat that, as was presently proved, accommodated three very comfortably.
But before they were allowed to sit down the boys had to be shown many things: the hollyhocks against the back fence, the flowering almond that had been brought all the way from the old home in New Jersey,-and had never quite made up its mind whether to die of homesickness or go on living,-the bed of lilies-of-the-valley that just _wouldn't_ keep out of the path and many other floral treasures. Nasturtiums and morning-glories and scarlet sage and crinkly-edged white and lavender petunias were still blossoming gaily, and there was even a cl.u.s.ter of white roses on the arbor, for, so far, no frost had come. The twins admired properly and Polly was all smiles, until suddenly she said, ”O-oh!” and faced them reproachfully.
”You've just let me go on and be perfectly ridiculous!” she charged. ”I don't think it's a bit nice of you!”
”Why, what-how do you mean?” stammered Ned.
”You have the most wonderful flowers in the world in California, and you know it!” she replied severely; ”and you've let me show you these poor little things as if-as if they were anything at all in comparison! I forgot you came from California.”
”Maybe we didn't tell you,” offered Laurie. ”Anyway, your flowers-”
”In California they have hedges of geraniums and roses climb right over the houses, and orange-trees and palms and everything,” interrupted Polly, breathlessly. ”Why, this garden must seem perfectly-perfectly _awful_ to you!”
”Don't you believe it!” denied Ned. ”Flowers and things do grow bigger, I suppose, out our way; but they aren't a bit prettier, are they, Laurie?”
”Not so pretty,” answered the other, earnestly. ”Besides, _I_ never saw a geranium hedge in my life. Maybe they have them in some places, like Pasadena, but there isn't _one_ in Santa Lucia, honest. There isn't, is there, Ned?”
”_I_ never saw one. And palms aren't awfully pretty. They get sort of scraggly-looking sometimes. Honest, Polly, I never saw a garden any prettier and cuter than this is. Of course, some are bigger and-and more magnificent-”
”Who wants a magnificent garden?” demanded Laurie, scornfully. ”What have you got in the box, Polly?”
Comforted, Polly smiled again. ”That's Antoinette,” she said. ”Come and see.”
Antoinette lived in a wooden box in the shelter of the porch, and had long ears and very blue eyes and a nose that twitched funnily when they approached. In short, Antoinette was a fluffy smoke-gray rabbit. ”She has a dreadfully long pedigree,” said Polly, as she took Antoinette out and snuggled her in her arms.
”Has she?” murmured Laurie. ”I thought it looked rather short.”
”A pedigree isn't a _tail_, you idiot,” said Ned, scathingly. ”She's awfully pretty, Polly. Will she bite?”
”Of course not! At least, not unless you look like a cabbage-leaf.”
”I wouldn't take a chance,” Laurie advised. ”Any one who's as green as you are-”
”She _tries_ to eat 'most everything,” said Polly, ”but she likes cabbage and lettuce and carrots best.”
”I wish I had a cabbage,” muttered Laurie, searching his pockets; ”or a carrot. You haven't a carrot with you, have you, Ned?”
”You're the silliest boys!” laughed Polly, returning Antoinette to her box. ”Let's go and sit down a minute.” And when they were on the seat under the arbor and she had smoothed her skirt and tucked a pair of rather soiled white canvas shoes from sight, she announced, ”There! Now you can make up a verse about something!”
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