" And turning away, she went into the house,
leaving her companions to go on to the hospital discussing, as
they walked along, "Polly's last freak."
She stopped a moment to speak to Mrs, Hapgood, then ran directly
up-stairs and looked in at the partly open door. Alan was half
sitting, half lying on the sofa, with his book dropped, face
downward, on his knee, and his hands clasped at the back of his
head. Too much absorbed in his thoughts to notice her light step,
his face was turned away from the door, and he was scowling
moodily at a distant corner of the ceiling.
"May I come in, or are you making up a poem and don't want to be
disturbed?" inquired Polly gaily, pushing the door wide open.
The boy started up with quick enthusiasm.
"Poll! How jolly of you to come in to see a fellow!"
"Then I'm not in the way?" she asked, as she pulled off her coat.
"What an idea! I was desperately lonesome, and somehow you always
seem to fit in better than the others. Molly teases, and Jessie
tires me. Katharine is better, only she's a little given to
gushing, and boys don't like that sort of thing, you know,"
returned Alan frankly.
"I'm very glad if I suit you," said Polly, devoutly hoping she
could succeed in avoiding the sin of teasing on the one hand, and
of sentimentality on the other.
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