"Some of them
looked as old as the Rocky Mountains, and I don't see why they
shouldn't live forever, doing nothing but sun themselves."
"I'd rather live a little shorter time, and live a little harder,
while I'm about it," said Polly. "I think I prefer wearing out to
rusting out."
It was late in the afternoon when they reached the town once more,
and drove up the street to Polly's house. Mrs. Adams was at the
gate, watching for them.
"At last!" she exclaimed. "I was really getting quite anxious
about you, for fear Cob had run away, or you were lost. Aren't you
hungry? Where have you been?"
"Oh, no, we aren't hungry," said Alan, as he jumped out to help
Polly to the ground. "We've been to dinner at the poorhouse, and
Jessie has disgraced us all, by refusing to eat cabbage."
CHAPTER XVIII.
MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP.
They had all been at the Langs's that afternoon. The third of June
was Florence's fourteenth birthday, and Mrs. Lang had celebrated
the day by giving a little afternoon tea on the broad piazza,
overlooking the grounds. It had been a pretty sight, with the
dainty gowns of the girls, and the active figures of the few boys
who had been favored with invitations to share in the games on the
lawn.
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