Polly felt that she had never seen a prettier child, nor could she think of another as rude as Gwen Harcourt.

She was always kind and polite, but what could she say to this rude little girl that would be courteous and at the same time truthful?

“I can’t tell her I’ll be glad to have her come, for I just know I don’t want her.  She’s very pretty, but, someway, I’m sure I’d be happier without her,” thought Polly.

Gwen Harcourt, vexed that Polly Sherwood had not been at all excited at the thought of receiving a call from her little self, turned toward Inez.  “Come,” she said, “let’s go out in the sunshine and have a run.  It’s awful dull here!”

“I guess we’ll be going,” said Inez.  “Gwen is so very gay that most places seem dull to her.  Come!”

She held out her hand, Gwen grasped it, and together they ran down the avenue.

They did not even say “Good-bye,” but raced off as if every moment spent with Polly were too dull to be endured.

“I said I shouldn’t call her ‘Princess Polly’ and I shan’t,” said Gwen, to which Inez replied: 

“Well, you don’t have to, and I guess she didn’t care much.”

Polly, looking after them, spoke softly to herself.

“What pretty eyes she had, and her hair was fine, too.”  Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she spoke again.

“She was lovely to look at, but she wasn’t very polite.

“She said she was coming over here some day, but I do hope that she won’t hurry about it.  I’m sure I don’t need her as much as Inez does.  I don’t mind how long it is before I see Gwen Harcourt!”

Gwen Harcourt had a most unlovely disposition and no one could guess what she at any time might do.  If Princess Polly had urged her to come very soon to Sherwood Hall she would have waited a week at least before appearing there.

As she had received no urging, she decided to go on the following day.

Very early the next morning Polly sat in a big chair in the library, reading her favorite fairy book.  A slight sound caused her to look up from the page.

“Why, there she is!” she whispered.

There, indeed, was Gwen Harcourt, perched upon the fence that enclosed the piazza.  She was looking straight in at the window, her bold little eyes noting every object in the room.

“Come out!  Come out!” she cried, beckoning so frantically that she nearly lost her balance.

Polly was annoyed.  She was in the midst of an enchanting tale, and she so wished to finish reading it.  Truly, she was not glad to see Gwen Harcourt.

She never treated anyone rudely, however, so she closed her book and went out to greet her early visitor.

“I guess you’d think I wanted to come up here if you knew how I came,” said Gwen.

“How did you come?” Polly asked, not because she cared but in order to say something.  She could not say that she was glad to see her.