It's a woman; she's an English-man and she's a queen."
"Jessie!" And Katharine dropped into a chair, too much horrified
to say more.
"You don't mean to say," queried Polly, "that you've been and gone
and asked Queen Victoria to send you her autograph?"
Jessie nodded triumphantly.
"Well, she won't," returned Polly, with deliberate emphasis, while
Alan laughed, and laughed again at the absurd idea.
Then Jessie showed her trump card.
"Yes, she will," she said, with a firmness born of conviction;
"she will too, for I put in a two-cent stamp for her to answer
with. There!"
CHAPTER XI
JEAN'S CHRISTMAS EVE.
Christmas mystery was in the air. For weeks the girls had been
busy over all sorts of gay trifles which were whisked out of
sight, now and then, to avoid some particular pair of curious eyes
that were not intended to see them until the proper moment came.
"What's the use of making such a time about it?" inquired Alan, in
some disgust one day.
He had rushed breathlessly into the room to announce the first
skating of the season, and was greeted with four protesting
voices, as the girls tried to cover up the stripes of the afghan
they were making for his own especial use.
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