For Molly's sake she tried to be eager
and interested about them, but when she was alone with Jean or
Alan, she was disconsolate enough over the prospect. The three or
four weeks had flown past, every day bringing the change nearer,
and the last evening had come. Arm in arm, the two girls had been
pacing up and down the walk, while they waited for Alan, and that
half-hour had made Polly realize more than ever how fond she was
of this companion with whom she had spent so many contented hours.
The memory of their frequent quarrels seemed to sink away into the
past, and only the thought of their good times was before them
then. But Alan's whistle was heard, as he came out of the house;
and he and Molly went away down the street, leaving Polly standing
alone at the gate. She looked after them until they disappeared in
the gathering darkness; then her curly head dropped on her folded
arms, and she began to sob with all the fervor of her impetuous,
affectionate nature. It was over in a minute or two, and no one
was the wiser for it but the birds in the tall elm trees above her
head. Then she turned forlornly, and started to walk to the house;
but, with Polly, the reaction always came quickly, and by the time
she reached the steps, she was humming the air which Alan had just
whistled, as she planned about the gown she would wear when she
went to see the cousins, and pictured to herself the details of
their first meeting.
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