interrupted Mrs. Adams desperately. "No, I don't eat oysters now; there's no R in August," replied Miss Bean frankly.

"Unless you spell it O-r-gust," whispered Jean, in an aside which made Polly choke over her gla.s.s of water.

"Well," resumed Miss Bean tranquilly, "Kate's got two daughters of her own, about Molly's age, and she wants 'em to come there and board, and go to school at Miss Webster's. I don't know's I wonder, for I don't suppose there's any schools in them little western towns; but Mis' Hapgood's all upset about it. I told her she'd better take 'em, and charge a good, round price for 'em; but she says she hasn't much room, and then she don't know how they'd get along with Molly."

"Do you think they'll come?" inquired Polly eagerly.

"I don't know," answered Miss Bean coldly. "Mis' Hapgood hasn't made up her mind. She sets great store by Kate, being her only sister," she went on, turning back to the doctor; "and so I shouldn't much wonder if she took 'em, after all. They say his father shot himself, and--"

"Have some of these preserved plums, Miss Bean," said Mrs. Adams, lifting the spoon persuasively.

"No, thank you. Preserves isn't very hulsome, and I don't go much on them, excepting pie-plant and mola.s.ses," answered Miss Bean, as she poured out her coffee into her saucer.

At this somewhat unexpected response, Jean pinched Polly's hand under the table, and they both giggled.

"Some folks," continued Miss Bean reflectively, "say it's a coward that commits suicide; but, my soul and body! I think it's just the other way; I never should get up s.p.u.n.k enough." Then, with an abrupt change of subject, she added: "Speaking of folks dying, I see Mr. Solomon Baxter as I was coming along. He's aged a good deal since his wife died, and no wonder, poor man! with all his six children to look out for. He shook hands with me, and he seemed so all cut up when I told him how lonesome he looked, that I says to him: 'Mr. Baxter, why don't you get married again?

There's lots of good women left, as many as there ever was. Why don't you take Miss Roberts, now? She'd manage your children for you, I'll warrant.'"

This was too much for the doctor and the girls, and they burst out laughing, while Aunt Jane remarked stiffly,--

"Thank you, Miss Bean; but I have no present desire to be married."

"Well, I didn't know but what you might think 'twas a case of duty," responded Miss Bean grimly.

As soon as the meal was over, Polly and Jean adjourned to the lawn again, and sat down to discuss the situation, for they were both much excited over the possible coming of Molly's cousins.

"I saw some pictures of them, once," said Polly, as she settled herself in the hammock. "They were pretty, and they were just elegantly dressed, with piles of lace and things, and gold chains round their necks."

"Miss Bean said they had lots of money," said Jean thoughtfully.

"Yes," answered Polly; "and they looked as if they had it all on..

Mamma says 'tisn't a good idea for young girls to wear jewelry, and she won't let me have any at all, but just these." As she spoke, Polly touched the string of gold beads that lay closely about her throat. They had been her great-grandmother's beads, and Polly had received them for her name.

"I shouldn't wonder if they did that more out West," said Jean.

"How old are they, Polly?"

"One is older than Molly," answered Polly "and the other is about Alan's age. Molly hasn't ever seen them, for they've always lived out there I hope they won't come, though," she added emphatically.

"Why not?" inquired Jean. "If they're nice I think it would be fun to have them here."

"I don't," said Polly. "There are just enough of us, as it is; and if they were here, we shouldn't get any good of Molly."

"It won't make any difference, if they don't go to the same school with us. And besides, you said this morning that you couldn't bear Molly," said Jean a little maliciously.

"You know I never meant any such thing, Jean," said Polly impatiently. "I like Molly Hapgood better than any other girl in this town, and you know that just as well as I do."

"What about me?" inquired Jean, laughing, for she was accustomed to Polly's moods, and was by no means angry at the alarming frankness of her reply, as she said tragically,--

"I like you ever so much, Jean; but, honestly, I like Molly better, when she's nice, for we've always been together; and I don't want these dreadful girls to come in between us."

"I don't believe they will, any more than Florence and I do," said Jean soothingly.

At the mention of Florence's name, Polly straightened up, and looked right into Jean's eyes.

"Jean Dwight," said she, "if you'll never, never tell, I am going to say something to you that I never told anybody before."

"What is it?" asked Jean curiously.

"You promise not to tell?"

"Why, of course, if you don't want me to."

"Well," said Polly, in a whisper, "I think Florence is a perfect little flat. There! I suppose mamma would say I was as bad as Miss Bean, with all her gossip, but I can't help it, it's true. But don't let's talk about it any more, it makes me so cross. Perhaps they won't come, anyway."

"Here comes Alan," said Jean, glancing up as the boy turned in at the gate; "maybe he can tell us something about them." In fact, the lad had come to see Polly for no other purpose than to talk the matter over with her, for Polly was his truest friend in the V, and the two children exchanged confidences with the same simple good-fellowship they might have shown, had they both been girls.

Polly never snubbed Alan because he was younger, as Molly did, but invariably stood as his champion when the other girls scolded him, and tried to send him away; and Alan, on his side, never rubbed Polly the wrong way, but respected her quick temper. Of course he teased her, as every natural boy teases the girls with whom he is thrown; but it was a gay, good-natured sort of teasing that never irritated Polly in the least. During his long, rheumatic fever of the winter before, she had been a most devoted friend, dropping in to see him at all sorts of odd hours, to amuse him with her merry nonsense, and had greatly disgusted the girls by frankly announcing her preference for his society over their own. And Alan returned the compliment with interest, declaring that he would "rather have Poll in one of her tantrums than the rest of them with all their best manners."

He came deliberately across the lawn, with his black and white striped cap c.o.c.ked on the very back of his head, and his hands in the side pockets of his gray coat, and calmly disregarding the curiosity of the girls, he made no attempt to speak until he had comfortably settled himself on the gra.s.s at their feet.

"Well," he inquired at length, after he had arranged himself to his liking, with his hands clasped under his yellow head; "what is it you want to know?"

"Everything," demanded Polly, comprehensively.

"All right," he answered, lazily shutting his eyes. "The earth is the planet on which we live, and is about twenty-five thousand miles round; a decimal fraction is one whose denominator is ten, one hundred, one thousand, or and so forth; America was discovered in--"

"Oh, Alan, do be sensible if you can," said Jean. "We know all that stuff. What we want is to hear about these cousins of yours that are coming."

"How did you know anything about them?" asked the boy, in surprise.

"Miss Bean is here," answered Polly. "She went to see your mother on the way, and heard about it." "Oh."

There was a world of disgust in Alan's tone. Presently he went on,--

"Well, everybody will have to hear of it now. I came over to tell you, Poll, but it seems that old woman is in ahead."

"Are they really coming, then?" asked Polly anxiously.

"Hope not," said Alan, rolling over on his face and pulling up a handful of gra.s.s; "girls enough round already."

"That's not polite," returned Polly; "but go on."

"There isn't any on," said Alan. "All there is about it is that they want to come, and I'm afraid mother is going to let them.

Molly likes it, but I don't want them round in the way. I know they'll be prim and fussy, without any fun in them. I believe I'll come over here and live."

"Come on," said Polly hospitably; then she proceeded in a moral tone, "But, Alan, you ought not to talk so about them, for they're your cousins, and you ought to like your relations, you know."

"Do you like Aunt Jane?" inquired Alan, suddenly rolling over to face her once more.

But Polly was spared the necessity of making any reply, by a sudden voice behind her.