" And Alan
marched across the floor to seat himself beside his champion, sure
that there he would find a welcome.
He was not mistaken, for Polly remarked protectingly,--
"I did call you, Alan, for we want to have some fun, this horrid
day, and we need you to stir us up."
"All right; how shall I go to work?" inquired Alan cheerfully.
"Shall I dance a breakdown, or will you play tag?"
"Let's play hide-and-seek," suggested Jean; "it's so nice and dark
up here, to-day."
"Wait a minute," interposed Florence. "Alan, we may as well tell
you now: Jean is going to write a play for us to act, and you are
going to be John Smith and have your head cut off."
"The mischief, I am!" with a prolonged whistle of surprise and
disgust. "It strikes me I have something to say about what shall
be done with my head."
"Stop using such dreadful expressions, Alan," said Molly primly.
"You know mamma doesn't like to hear you say 'the mischief.'"
"Well, she didn't, 'cause she isn't here," returned Alan, in
nowise abashed by his reproof. "And I don't believe she'd like to
hear you girls planning to cut my head off, either."
"Oh, Alan, you goose!" said Polly. "John Smith's head wasn't cut
off, for Pocahontas saved him, you know.
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