The boys thought them ridiculous, and laughed at the idea that she
expected her playmates to believe them, but neither Polly, Lena, nor
Leslie could see it that way.
"I wouldn't mind the stories," Polly said, "because anyone can make up
stories just for fun, but I do hate to have her say they're TRUE."
"And she sticks to it," said Harry.
"That's it," said Lena, "she says they're true, and she dared us to come
down to her house, and see the picture!"
Gwen was safe in daring them, for not one of the little friends liked
her well enough to go to her home, none save Inez, and Inez had not
heard the story about the picture.
One sunny morning Polly ran along the avenue to overtake Lena Lindsey.
"Lena! Lena!" she cried, "wait for me! I've a letter from Rose," she
said, as she walked along with Lena.
"Which way are you going?" Lena asked, "I want to hear what she says."
"I wasn't going anywhere 'til I saw you," said Polly.
"Then come along the path through the grove," said Lena, "and we'll stop
on the bridge, and enjoy the letter there."
They ran along the path together, the sunbeams making Jack-o-lanterns at
their feet. Light branches swayed in the wind, and through the dancing
leaves the sunlight sifted, making Lena's hair a brighter brown, and
Polly's flaxen ringlets like pale gold.
They reached the little bridge, and paused to watch the clear, rippling
brook, as it ran beneath it, and out through the tiny grove.
Humming a melody all its own, it made its zigzag way between birches,
and alders, maples, and elderblow, carrying on its shining surface stray
leaves, and water spiders that struggled to see which first should reach
the sunlit meadow land beyond.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107