Polly turned away and obediently started on her errand, but as she went down the stairs, her mother heard her murmuring to herself words that were not altogether complimentary to Aunt Jane and the coming ministers. It was one of the days when everything went wrong, Polly said to herself as she went out of the gate and down the silent street. Molly had laughed at her, Aunt Jane had abused her, and, worst of all, her mother had spoken to her more seriously than she had done for a long time. That was the way it generally was with geniuses, she thought, and reflected with a vindictive joy that some day or other they would all be sorry for it. At this point she was interrupted by hearing her name called in boyish tones,-- "Polly! Polly! I say, wait for a fellow; can't you?" Turning, she saw Alan running after her, with his overcoat waving in the breeze and his soft felt hat pulled low on his forehead. "Where going?" he inquired briefly, as he overtook her and fell into step by her side. "To your house," she answered as briefly, not yet able to return to her usual sunny manner. "That's good," returned Alan cheerfully; then, as he surveyed her, he added, "What's up, Polly? You don't seem to be particularly festive this morning. Have you and Molly been having another pow- wow?" "A little one," confessed Polly. "That's too bad," said Alan, with a paternal air of consolation. "If Molly's been teasing you, I'll give her fits when she comes back from Florence's. She's there now." "Oh, I suppose it was both of us," responded Polly, cheered by his understanding of the situation. "I presume 'twas," said Alan candidly. "Molly is an awful tease; she gets after me once in a while, so I know. You're snappish, Poll; but you don't keep fussing at a fellow and hitting him when he's down." They walked on in silence for a few steps. Then Alan remarked, as he looked at her critically,-- "That's a gay little cap, Polly, and suits you first rate. New, isn't it?" Polly nodded smilingly. Alan's sympathy had smoothed out all the wrinkles in her temper, and she was once more her own merry self, so by the time she went in at the Hapgood house, she was laughing and talking as brightly as if she and Molly had never taken their walk to the bridge. "Oh, dear!" sighed Jessie, as she glanced down from the window of their room. "Here come Alan and Polly Adams. What a nuisance!" The two sisters, left to themselves for the morning, had been having a private feast of lemonade and crackers in their own room, where they had been alternately reading and nibbling, for the past hour. "Why is it a nuisance?" inquired Katharine, getting up to look out of the window, over her sister who was curled up in one of the deep window-seats, regardless of the delicate frost ferns that were thinly scattered over the panes.