Her next remark was even more surprising than those that she had already made.

"Let's catch bugs!" she said.

"Oh, horrid!" cried Polly, "I couldn't do that!"

"I do," said Gwen, "and it's fun. I caught two big old beetles and tied threads on them for harnesses. Then I hitched them to a wee little paper box about an inch long and they made a good span. They dragged it all right 'til I dumped an old fuzzy caterpillar into the box, and then they tumbled over on their backs and squirmed and kicked like everything! If I could find one now I could show you how they kick."

"Oh, please don't," said Polly quickly, "I wouldn't like to see them wiggle."

"Then let's slide down your front steps," said Gwen. "Come on! Slide the way I do. I sit down on the top step and commence to slip. When I've slid over three steps I turn over and slide three that way. I get excited wondering whether I'll tear my frock, or only b.u.mp my knees.

Sometimes it's both, and sometimes it's neither!"

Polly could not imagine why such antics could be amusing, and she knew that her mama would not like any such rough play.

"You don't seem to want to," said Gwen; "are you afraid of your clothes, or don't you dare to risk the b.u.mps?"

"I don't think mama would like it," Polly said, gently, "but I'll play 'Hide-and-Seek' with you, or any game you like."

"Oh, I don't care for those old games," said Gwen, "so I'll tell you what we'll do. Come over to the stable and you get your coachman to let us have the horse and the cow. You ride the horse barebacked and I'll ride the cow. Come on! Don't be a fraidie cat!"

"Oh, dear," said Polly, "I know you won't like it, but I don't want to do that."

She saw Gwen's eyes snap, and knew that she was angry.

"I'll get my boat, and I'll let you sail it if you'd like to, in the brook," she said.

She did not enjoy her little guest, but she wished to be kind.

"I WOULDN'T like to," Gwen said, rudely, "sailing boats isn't lively. I guess as long as you don't want to play any jolly things I'll go home. I meant to shingle the cat's fur this morning, and I'll do that. I'm going to wet it sopping wet, part it in the middle from his head to his tail, and then shingle it all but his tail!"

CHAPTER XI

GWEN TELLS A STORY

Of course, Gwen told Inez that she had been up to Sherwood Hall and that she thought it very dull.

"I wouldn't care to have such a big, BIG house," she said, "'n I wouldn't want such a big garden."

It was a silly speech to make, because it was not true, and no one could believe it.

Her own house was fine, but no dwelling in the town could compare with grand, stately Sherwood Hall, and Gwen Harcourt knew that.

"Polly wouldn't play anything, so I came home," she said.

"Why, that's odd," said Inez, "she's always willing to play games."

"Oh, well, she wanted to play 'Hide-and-Seek' and that's too stupid.

Let's play 'Tag' and see how hard we can run. You can make ever so much noise if you stamp your feet when you run on the asphalt. Le' me count!"

Inez did not dare to object.

"Eena, mena, mina, moot, Le'me catch you by the foot; Fill your eyes and mouth with soot, Pull a tree up by the root.

"Hit you with a speckled trout, Pull your hair to make it sprout; Though you grumble, also pout, One, two, three, and you are out."

"There!" said Gwen, "now you're it, so we'll begin to play."

"Why, how can I be 'it' when you said I was 'out?'" questioned Inez.

"'Cause I SAY so, that's all," said Gwen, coolly, and Inez dared not say a word. She knew if she did that Gwen would be provoked and would probably go home.

She was a little tyrant and anyone who wish to play with her must do as she said if she cared for peace.

"Run, now!" she cried. "Run! But you can't catch me!"

Truly, she was fleet footed.

Up the long driveway, around the house, past old Towser's kennel, pausing just long enough to kick it in order that he might growl, up the front steps and along the piazza, over its railing, across a bed of choice flowering plants, breaking some, and crushing many, around the summer house and through the grape arbor, shouting like a little wild Indian, she ran, and Inez could not get near enough to touch her.

"You're slow!" cried Gwen, "slower than an old cow! You can't run like anything, so we might as well sit down!"

In truth, she was tired but she would not say so. It pleased her far better to find fault with Inez.

"When YOU get rested," she said, "we might climb up onto your barn and crawl into the cupola."

"Ye'll not be doin' that, young lady," said the gardener, who, as he was pa.s.sing, had heard what she had said. "It's not safe, an' I know Mr.

Varney'd not allow it."

"Horrid old thing!" said Gwen. "Who do you mean?" Inez asked, sharply.

"The gardener, of course," snapped Gwen.

"I guess I'll go home," she said, a moment later, and although Inez coaxed her, she would not remain nor would she say why she had decided to go.

Whenever she wearied of a place she left it, refusing to remain or explain why she would not stay. Inez looked after the little flying figure.

"I hate to have her go, but I couldn't run every minute," she said.

One sunny afternoon, Lena and Rob, Leslie and Harry were sitting on the lawn, listening to Polly's story of floating in a little boat out to the open sea. Of how she and Rose did not dream how naughty the boy, Donald, had been until they were so far out that they could hardly see the beach.

The boys thought it very exciting, and this was not the first time that they had heard it. Indeed, they had often asked her to tell it, and each time they had found it as interesting as when they first had listened to it.

"Now tell us about the first moment that you saw the Dolphin," said Rob.

Gwen Harcourt, seeing the group on the lawn, wondered what they were talking about.