Fisher is your father?"
Polly threw back her head and laughed merrily. It sounded so strangely
to her to hear the sound echoing through the room so long silent, that
she stopped suddenly.
"Oh, girls! I can't hardly believe even yet that Phronsie is almost
well," she cried.
"Well, you'd better," advised Alexia philosophically, "because she is,
you know. Do laugh again, Polly; it's good to hear you."
"I can't help it," said Polly, "Cathie asked such a funny question."
"Cathie's generally a goose," said Alexia coolly.
"Thank you," said Cathie, a tall girl, with such light hair and sallow
face that she looked ten years older than her fourteen summers. "I
sometimes know quite as much as a few other people of my acquaintance,"
she said pointedly.
"I didn't say but that you did," said Alexia composedly. "I said you
were generally a goose. And so you are. Why, everybody knows that,
Cath."
"Come, come, girls, don't fight," said Polly. "How can you when Phronsie
is getting better? Alexia didn't mean anything, Cathie."
"Yes, she did," declared Cathie with a pout; "she's always meaning
something. She's the hatefullest thing I ever saw!"
"Nonsense!" said Polly, with a gay little laugh. "She says perfectly
dreadful things to me, and so I do to her, but we don't either of us
mind them.
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