Produced by Ralph Zimmerman, Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HALF A DOZEN GIRLS by ANNA CHAPIN RAY TO MY PARENTS I OFFER THESE MEMORIES OF A HAPPY, NAUGHTY CHILDHOOD. My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray: Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand, sweet song." CHARLES KINGSLEY. CONTENTS. I. THE ADAMS FAMILY II. THE V III. THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS IV. MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH V. TWO MORE GIRLS VI. POLLY ENCOUNTERS THE SERVANT QUESTION VII. POLLY'S HOUSEKEEPING VIII. HALLOWEEN IX. THE NEW READING CLUB X. POLLY'S POEM XI. JEAN'S CHRISTMAS EVE XII. HALF A DOZEN COOKS XIII. ALAN AND POLLY HAVE A DRESS REHEARSAL XIV. POLLY'S DARK DAY XV. THE PLAY XVI. JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL XVII. MISS BEAN'S VISIT IS RETURNED XVIII. MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP XIX. KATHARINE'S CALL XX. ONE LAST GLIMPSE CHAPTER I. THE ADAMS FAMILY. "'There was a little girl, And she had a little curl, And it hung right down over her forehead; And when she was good, She was very, very good, And when she was bad, _she was horrid_!'" "And that's you!" chanted Polly Adams in a vigorous crescendo, as she watched the retreating figure of her guest. Then climbing down from her perch on the front gate, she added to herself, "Mean old thing! I s'pose she thinks I care because she's gone home; but I'm glad of it, so there!" And with an emphatic shake of her curly head, she ran into the house. Up-stairs, in the large front room, sat her mother and her aunt, busy with their sewing. The blinds were closed, to keep out the warm sun of a sultry July day, and only an occasional breath of air found its way in between their tightly turned slats. The whir of the locust outside, and the regular creak, creak of Aunt Jane's tall rocking-chair were the only sounds to break the stillness. This peaceful scene was ruthlessly disturbed by Polly, who came flying into the room and dropped into a chair at her mother's side. "Oh, how warm you are here!" she exclaimed, as she pushed back the short red-gold hair that curled in little, soft rings about her forehead. "Little girls that will run on such a day as this must expect to be warm," remarked Aunt Jane sedately, while she measured a hem with a bit of paper notched to show the proper width. "Now if you and Molly would bring your patchwork up here, and sew quietly with your mother and me, you would be quite cool and comfortable." "Patchwork!" echoed Polly, with a scornful little laugh. "Girls don't sew patchwork nowadays, Aunt Jane."