Alan saw her coming, and started to meet her.

"What's the matter, Alan?" she said, noticing his frown, as she joined him.

"Nothing but a crick in my knee," he explained cheerfully; "I think I took cold last night, perhaps. They're up-stairs with Molly," he added vaguely. "I'll call them down, or will you go up?"

"I'll wait here," said Polly, seating herself on the broad stone step. "What are they like, Alan?"

"Stunning beauties, both of them," responded Alan, with some enthusiasm. "Katharine knows it, that's the worst of it. I do hate a girl that thinks she's pretty. I'd rather they'd be homely as Miss Bean, and not think about themselves, all the time. But I'll go call them." And he departed, leaving Polly to meditate on his words.

The girls soon came down the old stairway behind her, and as Polly shyly rose to meet them, she felt at once the truth of Alan's description of Katharine. There was a strong family resemblance between the sisters, both were dark, and they had the same bright, brown eyes and smooth, dark brown hair; but Katharine was by far the more beautiful, with her pink cheeks, small regular teeth, full lips, and long straight nose with just a suggestion of sauciness in the slant of its tip. It was this nose that captivated Polly, and, indeed, Katharine was like a beautiful picture, in figure and feature, while her rapidly changing expressions and her brilliant health added a charm which no picture could ever have. She seemed years older than the other girls, and this effect was increased by the elegance of her dress and by her quiet, settled manners, which made Polly feel very young and shabby in her spotless gingham. Katharine shook hands with a dignity that quite overawed Polly, who turned to look at Jessie with a conscious feeling of relief. Jessie was a plump, lively young woman of twelve, with less, perhaps, of her sister's delicate beauty; but the lack was more than made good by her perfect unconsciousness of self, and her frank, winning manner, which led Polly to forget her formal greeting, and seize her hand, saying impulsively,--

"I'm so glad you've come to live here!"

Jessie laughed, showing a pair of deep dimples in her dark skin, as she answered, with a cordiality equal to Polly's own,--

"And I'm so glad Molly has such nice friends,"

That settled the matter between them, and, arm in arm, they strolled out to the tennis court, chatting like old friends, while Molly and Alan followed with Katharine, who looked about her indifferently, nodding slightly, from time to time, in answer to some question.

"I do think these old houses are splendid," Jessie was saying eagerly. "I never saw one before. Out in Omaha we call a house old that has been built twenty years."

"Haven't you ever been East before?" asked Polly, with a feeling of pity for any girl who had never known the delights of life in an old New England town.

"Never since I was a year old, so I don't remember much about it,"

answered Jessie. "I think I am going to like it, though, for the place is lovely, and Aunt Ruth is so sweet."

"I hope you won't be homesick, I'm sure," said Polly encouragingly.

Jessie laughed outright at the idea.

"Why should I be homesick?" she inquired, rather to Polly's surprise.

"Why, I don't know exactly, only I should think you'd be lonely without your father and mother," she began.

"That's what Aunt Ruth seemed to think," interrupted Jessie; "but I shan't be, a bit. You see, mamma is off travelling with papa ever so much of the time, and when she's at home, even, we don't see much of her, for we are in school days, and she goes out, or else has company 'most every evening."

"Is that the way people do out there?" inquired Polly, with perfect innocence.

The others were standing near and, at the question, Alan shot a sly glance at Molly, as Katharine answered, with an air of patronage,--

"Not all people, you know; but mamma is in society, and is very gay, so of course she can't be expected to have much time for us."

"Oh!" said Polly, as if a new light had dawned on her. The simple life of the old town and her own mother's devotion to her had not taught her to know that, when the question arises between them, home life must give place to social.

But Molly saw they were treading on dangerous ground, so, to ward off a possible skirmish, she suggested,--

"Let's have a game of tennis. You girls play, don't you?"

It proved that they did, and Alan was sent off to get the net and rackets, followed by Polly, who went racing after him, to help him bring out his load.

"Why, do girls run here?" asked Katharine, with an air of surprise.

"Yes, of course we do; run and play tag, and do all sorts of dreadful things," answered Molly, with some spirit. "What do you do, I'd like to know?"

"Of course it's different in a city," replied her cousin sedately.

"We play tennis and skate; but we never run, all for nothing. Only little girls do that."

"What nonsense!" was Molly's comment. "I'd call myself a little girl, then, if I couldn't have any fun without. I hope you don't consider yourself a young lady--Excuse me, Katharine," she added hastily. "I didn't mean to be rude; but you'll have to take us as you find us, I'm afraid."

But Alan and Polly had reappeared, and the game began, watched by Alan, who refused all the girls' entreaties to play.

"I can't to-night, Poll," he answered to her glance; "I'm too stiff in the joints, but I'll act as umpire."

By the time the game was over, they were excellent friends, even Katharine's reserve having yielded to admiration for the playing of these two girls, who returned her swiftest b.a.l.l.s with the precision born of long practice. As the bell rang for dinner, she dropped her racket and held out a hand to each, saying, with the winning grace she knew how to a.s.sume at her pleasure,--

"I never saw better players in my life. We shall have to try a series of match games this fall, West against the East."

"They do play pretty well, don't they?" inquired Alan from the rear, with a tone of conscious pride. "I've coached them both, and they can play every bit as well as I can."

"That's modesty," said Polly, laughing. "Alan wouldn't play, just because he was afraid you'd beat him. We play five here, quite often."

"How do you arrange it?" asked Katharine.

"Put in an extra one on the weak side," answered Polly, stooping to pick up a ball she had dropped. "It isn't quite as much fun, but there are just five of us, and it gives us all a chance," she added, as they entered the dining-room and she took her place between Alan and Jessie.

"How do you like it, Kit?" asked Jessie, when they were in their room that night.

"Like what?" inquired Katharine, with a sleepy yawn.

"Oh, auntie and Molly and all?"

"Auntie is rather nice, only she is a little bit countrified,"

returned Katharine critically; "and Molly is well enough; but what a funny little thing that Polly Adams is! She acts more like a boy, the way she goes rushing around with Alan."

"I like her, though," said Jessie.

"She isn't so bad," answered Katharine thoughtfully; "she's a good-hearted little thing, even if she isn't like the Omaha girls.

I do like Alan, though, Jessie; don't you? He is a splendid- looking fellow, and has ever so much fun in him. He seems ever so much older than he really is."

"Perhaps it's because he has been sick a good deal," suggested Jessie.

"It may be that is it," a.s.sented Katharine, pulling off the silver bangles that clanked like a criminal's fetters at every motion of her hand; "but he doesn't look as if he'd been ill a day in his life. I'm so glad there's a boy in the family; for they always keep things going. I wonder what our school will be like."

The two girls speculated on the future until they heard Alan, in the next room, kick off his shoes and let them drop, with a thud, on the floor. Then, tired with their journey, they fell asleep.

CHAPTER VI.