Part 7 (1/2)
”Well! you've got here at last!” he cried.
”It's awfully good of you to wait for me,” she crooned, skipping into step.
”Pretty queer if I hadn't waited! I'd have got you off sooner, only the maid said they had company, and I didn't want to b.u.t.t in. So I just ran home and to your house, to tell them how it was--while I was waiting for those folks to go. I guess that maid thought I was in a mighty hurry to see Miss Townsend, for I kept running round to the kitchen to know if the coast was clear.”
”What a lot of trouble I've made you!” Polly lamented.
”Trouble nothing!” he scouted. ”But whatever did you do it for? That girl!--with all the mean things she's said! And away she stalked after school, as disdainful as ever!”
”I know,” Polly admitted mournfully. ”But I was so sorry for her--it must have been dreadful!”
”Sorry!” David chuckled. ”It was too funny!”
Polly laughed, too, reminded of the ridiculous sight. Then she sighed.
”I was awfully disappointed,” she went on. ”For a minute, when Miss Carpenter told me to stay, I thought I just couldn't stand it. I didn't dare look at Patricia, for fear I'd cry.”
”Don't see what she had to do with it!” growled David.
”Why, I was going home with Patricia right after school. Mrs.
Illingworth had invited me to tea.”
”M-m!” responded David
”I want you to know Patricia,” Polly continued; ”she's such a dear girl.”
”Must be!” he retorted sarcastically. ”So kind to go off and leave invited company as she did! She never waited a minute!”
”Well, but, David, what good would it have done? They board, you know, and couldn't wait tea for me.”
”M-m,” remarked David.
”I don't see why you feel so about Patricia,” Polly began.
”I haven't any use for a girl broncho-buster!” he broke out.
”David Collins!”
”Well,” he replied, in a half-ashamed tone, ”she rides bronchos, doesn't she? I heard her telling you about being on a broncho that stood right up on his hind feet, and cut up like sixty!”
”Oh, yes, that was a horse she didn't know about till she got on him!
But he couldn't throw her! She kept her seat! Wasn't that splendid!”
”Splendid!” he scorned. ”It's just as I said--she's a--”
”She is not!” Polly burst out indignantly. ”It just happened that once. She's got a lovely little horse that she rides, and he's as gentle as can be. She isn't--that! I shouldn't think you'd say such things about my cousin.” Polly's voice was tearful.
”I d'n' know's cousins are any better 'n other folks,” he growled.
”Oh, David!” she protested. Then her face suddenly lighted. ”You're not afraid I'll think more of her than I do of you, are you? David, is that it?” as he did not answer. ”Why, David Collins,” she went on, the words tumbling out tempestuously, ”how foolish you are! I couldn't!