Part 43 (1/2)

”But it's your place to begin first,” said Polly decidedly, ”because you said you had something to talk over. So what is it, Alexia?”

”Well--” Alexia drew a long breath, cudgeling her brains, then burst out, ”We must think of something new to do now, Polly, since the garden party is over.”

”I know,” said Polly. ”How I wish we could get up something else, for our fancy work is all done! Oh, wasn't it just gorgeous, Alexia”--with a comfortable little wriggle.

”I should say it was,” cried Alexia, ”and didn't it sell, though!--and everybody wished there was more, except my horrible old shawl.”

”Why, Alexia Rhys!” Polly poked up her head where she had been nestling it on Alexia's shoulder. ”You know Mrs. Sterling sent for the shawl and gave five dollars for it.”

”Oh, that was because she knew it was so ugly that no one else would buy it,” said Alexia composedly. ”Well, I don't care, so long as it's sold. I was just tired to death of that old thing, Polly; I don't want to ever see another shawl.”

”Well, we shan't have another fair in a long while, I suppose,” said Polly, with a sigh, and laying her head down again.

”Not till next summer,” said Alexia; ”then, says I, for a garden party! You know your grandpapa said he'd give you another, just as nice a one, then.”

”But that's a whole year.” said Polly disconsolately; ”heigh-ho, it's so very long to wait! Well, I suppose we must think of something else to do now.”

”Just for us girls,” said Alexia.

”I don't know,” said Polly slowly, looking up at her; ”we ought to let the boys come in.”

”Oh, not those horrid boys,” said Alexia impatiently; ”they're forever hanging around, and I like, once in a while, to have something by ourselves.”

”But it seems too bad to leave them out,” said Polly soberly.

”Well, it would do them good to be left out sometimes,” declared Alexia: ”they're so high and mighty, I'd just dearly love to take them down, and say, 'Boys, you can't come into this.'” She tossed her fluffy hair till the long, light braids flew out triumphantly.

”Why can't we have a cooking club?” suggested Polly, after a minute of hard thinking.

”Ugh!” Alexia twisted up her face. ”Oh, that's horrid,” she said, with another grimace. ”Do you mean, learn to make things on the kitchen range?”

”Yes, and on the chafing-dish,” said Polly, flying up to sit straight. ”Oh, it would be elegant, Alexia!” she cried, with glowing cheeks.

”Well, I can't learn,” said Alexia, ”so that's some small comfort, for I'm in a boarding-house, and I guess the cook here would fly in a fit to see me come into the kitchen.”

”But you can come to our house and learn with me,” said Polly, clasping her hands, ”and we'll make perfectly splendid things; just think, Alexia.”

”What things?” asked Alexia doubtfully.

”Oh, little biscuits,” said Polly, going back in her mind to the delights of baking-day in the little brown house; ”cunning little ones, you know; you can't think how perfectly elegant we used to make them, Alexia.”

”Oh, you had everything elegant in your little brown house,” said Alexia, twisting enviously in her corner. ”Joel's never tired of telling of it. And to think I wasn't there! Oh, dear me! I wish you would talk about it.”

”Well, you can try now to make some biscuits. I'll show you how,” said Polly eagerly.

”And Polly--oh, goody!--now don't you see we won't have to ask the boys to join this? A cooking club--the very idea!” Alexia hopped off from the sofa, and stood in front of Polly, clasping her hands.

”Why, yes we will,” cried Polly, hopping off too, and speaking very decidedly; ”the boys will like it just as much as we do.”