Alan came sauntering down the stairs after
them, and stood leaning in the doorway, watching them settle
themselves preparatory to starting. Something in the lad's
position struck Mrs. Adams, and she beckoned to him.
"Come too, Alan; that is, if you can stand it with so many girls."
"May I? Is there room?"
He ran out to the carriage, then stopped, hesitating, as he saw
Polly touch her mother's arm, and shake her head silently.
"I don't believe I'll go," he said, drawing back.
"Why not?" asked Mrs. Adams, in surprise.
"I don't think Polly wants me to," answered the boy frankly. "I
don't want to be in the way." And he turned back to the house.
"'Tisn't that, mamma," said Polly, blushing at being caught. "I'd
like to have Alan go, well enough, only I was afraid it would be
too much for Job to take so many of us."
"In that case, you might have offered to be the one to give up,"
said her mother, in a low tone, which, though very gentle, still
brought a deeper flush to Polly's face. Then she added to Alan,
"Nonsense, my boy! You are thin as a rail, and don't weigh
anything to speak of. Get in here this minute, and if Job gets
tired, I'll make you all walk home."
Alan mounted to the front seat, where he made himself comfortable,
with a boyish disregard of Florence's fresh pink gingham gown;
Mrs.
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