Dear me! do I hurt?"
"No, never mind," said Alexia; "'tisn't any matter. Don't go home, Polly."
She held her fast by the gown.
"No, of course not," said Polly; "at least not until I get this hook out of
your hair. There--oh, dear me! I thought it was quite free. Well, anyway,
now it is!" She held up the blue silk waist with a triumphant little
flourish, over her own head. "It must be awful to have something fastened
to you like that," she said, sympathetically, as she placed the waist on
the bed with a sigh of relief.
"Well, I guess you'd think so," assented Alexia decidedly; "it's too
perfectly awful for anything. It pulls like a big vulture with his talons
holding your hair." She hopped to her feet and shook herself in delight,
her long, light braids flying out gayly. "Well, I am glad that Aunt has
gone"--looking around the room, and drawing a long breath.
Polly Pepper stood quite still over by the bed.
"Well--heigh-ho--come on," cried Alexia, dancing over to seize her arm;
"let's have a spin." But Polly didn't move.
"Come on, Polly," cried Alexia, with another tug at her arm.
"No," said Polly, "I can't, Alexia."
"What in the world is the matter?" cried Alexia, dropping her arm to stare
at her.
"I think your aunt--" began Polly.
"Oh, Aunt!" interrupted Alexia impatiently. "You're always talking about
her, Polly Pepper, and she's everlastingly picking at me, so I have a
perfectly dreadful time, between you two.
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