While Rob dreamed, and pondered over the valiant knights of old, Polly, blowing huge soap bubbles, stood in the sunlight, making them larger and larger, and laughing when they floated away on the soft breeze.

She, too, was dreaming.

The scent of the garden flowers made the air sweet, the yellow butterflies, at play in the sunshine, fluttered too near a bubble.

It burst with the touch of their soft wings, and they flew away, frightened that a clear, beautiful globe had chased them, and then so mysteriously disappeared.

Vivian Osborne watched her, and so still had she been, that Polly had almost forgotten that she was there.

Again she dipped her pipe into the bowl of suds, and gently she blew, determined to make a larger bubble than she had yet made.

How beautiful it was!  The trees, the blue sky mirrored on its glossy surface, and—­yes, there were the holly-hocks reflected on it, and curving to fit its globe-like form.

“Oh!” cried Vivian, “see the colors on it, blue, and pink, and green, and your house, Polly.  Don’t it look like a tiny castle?’

“M—­m,” agreed Polly, for the pipe stem between her red lips would not permit her to talk.  When the bubble was as large as she dared to make it, she swung it from the pipe and they saw it sail away.

Sir Mortimer, who had been watching Polly, scampered off after the bubble.  He often chased a bright, colored ball, and this he thought was the finest ball he’d ever seen.

It dropped to the grass, and just as puss reached it, it burst.  Sir Mortimer stared at the place where it had vanished.

Polly and Vivian laughed at his surprise.  He touched the spot with his soft paw, then, turning, trotted away, as if to let them see that the matter was beneath noticing.

“Oh, he’s the dearest kitty!” cried Vivian, “blow another bubble, Polly, and blow it right at him.”

Laughing at the thought of surprising Sir Mortimer, Polly blew a fine bubble, and swung it toward him.

He blinked at it, as it came nearer, and then,—­oh, how they laughed, he began to back away from it.

It overtook him, however, and landed squarely on his upturned nose.

He sneezed in disgust, and rubbed his nose violently with his paw.

“Oh, Mortimer darling, I won’t do it again.  If you don’t like soap bubbles, you needn’t have them,” said Polly, picking him up, and caressing him.

It was evident that he forgave her, for he at once commenced to purr.

When Vivian said that she must go, Polly walked part of the way with her for company.

“Are you truly going to visit Rose Atherton, soon?  Inez Varney said you were,” said Vivian.

“Oh, yes,” Polly replied, “I have the invitation, and I’m to go the first week mama will let me.  I may go next week.  When I know what day I can go, I’m to write, and tell Rose, and Rose, with her Aunt, will call for me at the station.”