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 cocked 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 grass 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.
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