"No use wasting one's time on poor material," said Alan
philosophically, while he shielded his face from the blaze with
the shovel.
"Molly, do you remember what a time we had one night, trying to
make this fire burn?" inquired Polly, thoughtlessly betraying the
secret of their experiences.
"Don't I, though!" answered Molly fervently.
"When was that?" asked Florence.
"Last fall, when mamma went to New York," answered Polly. "We
wouldn't tell you then, but I don't care now, do you, Molly?"
"You'd better let me tell it," put in Alan. "You girls won't half
do it justice. Now listen." And he told the tale of their
housekeeping experiences, suppressing nothing, but, on the
contrary, making such additions as his fertile brain and an utter
disregard of the facts could suggest.
By the time his story was done, Polly and Molly were blushing and
protesting, while the other girls were lying back in their seats,
exhausted with laughing.
"Is that all?" asked Katharine, as her cousin ceased speaking.
"All! I should think it was, and more too," said Molly. "He made
up half of that, and the other half he exaggerated so that it
couldn't recognize itself, if it tried."
"How many of you girls would do any better?" added Polly.
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