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And Miss Rhys being too near the door for any such protection as Alexia suggested, in she walked. "What in the world!" She lifted both hands. "Alexia Rhys, is it possible! I concluded not to go down-town, and came back, and to think of this playing with your best silk waist!"
I think it's just sweet to be wicked." "Oh, Alexia Rhys!" "Well, just a little bit wicked," said Alexia. Cathie Harrison shook back the waves of light hair on her brow. "Girls," she began hesitatingly. But no one would listen; the laments were going on so fast over Polly and her doings. "It is right!" cried Cathie at last, after many ineffectual attempt to be heard.
"You know she's my very best friend, Pickering, and I haven't had a chance to say one word to her this morning. Come, Polly." "Polly, come here," called Mrs. Fisher. "O dear!" cried Alexia impatiently, "now that's just the way it always is. It's Polly here, and Polly there," as Polly deserted her and ran off with her basket of roses.
"Well, it does good service then," said Jasper coolly, "since it makes you do the very thing wanted." "And we wouldn't mind looking at her," said Alexia, running on with her reminiscences, "if she didn't make us do every single thing she says." "That's too bad," said Jasper, with a laugh, and flourishing away on the second line of the notice.
"Well, I declare," cried Alexia, looking up admiringly from a receipt book which Mrs. Fisher had loaned them, and over which the heads of the two girls were bent, "if you boys haven't been quick, though!" "Haven't we?" cried Jasper, and his eyes twinkled. "Don't tell," whispered Pickering over his shoulder.
Alexia was the first to arrive, her bowl of orange jelly in her hand, and after her, a tall slight figure jumped from the carriage, her flaxen hair streaming out in two pale braids. "I thought I'd pick Cathie up," said Alexia carelessly; "had to pass her door, you know. O dear me, what perfectly dreadful times you had last night, Polly Pepper."
She looked uncomfortable all the same, and ran about here and there trying to get things in their places, but knocking down more than were tidied up. "Why don't you say something?" she cried impatiently, whirling around. "Because I've nothing to say," replied Polly, not moving. "Oh, dear me!" Alexia sent her long arms out with a despairing gesture.
"Oh, this horrible old shawl!" said Alexia, regarding the worsted folds dangling from her needle with anything but favor. "Well, I didn't want it, and nobody will buy it, I know, but the other girls were all going to do things, so I had to." "Well, go on, Polly," said Mr. Dyce, with a laugh.
"No, no," cried Amy Garrett, "she's coming here!" "I call that nice," exclaimed Alexia decidedly, "when I asked her to come across the room! I'm going to sit next to her of course." "You'd much better have stayed with me," laughed Mr. Hamilton Dyce, "since there'll be one long fight over you. Better come back."
It was neither Nell nor Kate he saw smiling up at him, nor anybody else in the world but the Princess Alexia, whose eyes were like wine in a sunset, whose lips were as red as the rose of Tours in France, and whose voice was sweeter than that throbbing up from the 'cello. If he thought much more of her, there would be a logical sequence on his side.
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