"Never mind; we can make believe that the queen has sent them off, so as not to scare Pocahontas; that's what they call poetical license," said Polly. "Jean can see about that. There are lots of splendid things to wear, right here in this garret. Don't you suppose your mother would let us take them, Molly?" "Yes, I know she will," replied Molly. There was silence for a moment, while the girls considered the matter. Then Polly returned to her first charge. "But it will take a good while to get ready to start this, so I'd like to suggest our doing something else, while we wait." "Polly has something in her head," said Jean. "Tell us what 'tis, Poll," "Well, I'll tell you," said Polly, as she rose and began to walk up and down the floor. "Aunt Jane was scolding, the other day, because I hadn't read 'Pilgrim's Progress.' She said it was a living disgrace to me, and that I must do it, right off. Now, what if we have a reading club and do it together? Have any of you read it? I don't believe you ever have." The girls admitted that they had not. "That's just what I thought," said Polly triumphantly. "It's so stupid that I can't do it alone, for I read the first page yesterday, and I know. But we don't any of us want to be 'a living disgrace'; so what if we read aloud an hour every other afternoon? 'T wouldn't take us so very long, and," here she laughed frankly, "I don't suppose it would hurt us any." "I don't know but we ought to," remarked Molly virtuously, while Jean added,-- "I've heard people say it was like measles. You'd better take it young, if you did at all." "When shall we begin?" demanded Polly, fired with enthusiasm at the prospect. "To-morrow," said Molly; "and you'd better come here to read, for we can be nice and quiet up here. Come to-morrow at three, and we'll read till four." "Oh!" exclaimed Florence, suddenly springing up, as a small, dark body came flying in at the open window above her head, and went tumbling across the floor and down the stairs. "What was that?" asked Molly, rolling off the bed. "A green apple. I think," replied Polly, as she ran after it and seized it. "Yes; here it is." "That's Alan's doing," said Molly sternly, "I do wish he'd ever let us alone." "I don't," said Polly, coming to his defence; "he's ever so much fun. I get tired of all girls." "Thank you, ma'am," said Jean quickly, bowing low, in answer to the compliment. But Polly missed the bow, for her curly head was out of the window, and she was laughing down at a slender, light-haired lad who was just taking fresh aim at the open window. "Come up here, Alan!" she called. "Oh, don't, Polly!" remonstrated Molly from within. "He'll laugh at us, and spoil all our fun." "No, he won't," answered Polly valiantly; then, more loudly, "What did you say, Alan?" "What are you girls about up there?" he inquired. "Come up and see." And she drew in her head just in time to escape a second missile.