“Look at Polly’s cheeks!” cried Amy.

“You’ve been a white little minx so long,” said Alexia, putting a fond arm around Polly; “I went home and cried every day, after I would steal around the back way to see how Phronsie was”—­

“Won’t Phronsie be downstairs soon?” asked Amy.

“I don’t know,” said Polly.  “Papa-Doctor is going to be dreadfully careful of her, that she doesn’t get up too soon.”

“Say, Polly,” cried another girl, “don’t you have to take a lot of pills and stuff, now that Dr. 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.”

“Well, those are in fun,” said Cathie; “that’s a very different matter"- -

“So you must make these in fun,” said Polly.  “I would if I were you.”  But she drew away from Alexia’s arm.

“Polly, don’t be an idiot and fight with me,” whispered Alexia in her ear.

“Go away,” said Polly, shaking her off.

“Polly, Polly, I’ll say anything if you won’t look like that.  See here, Cathie, let’s make up,” and she ran over, seized the tall girl by the waist and spun her around till she begged to stop.

“Is that your way of making up?” cried Cathie, when she had the breath to speak.

“Yes; it is as good as any other way.  It spins the nonsense out of you.  There!” with a last pat on the thin shoulder, she left her, and ran back to Polly.

“It’s all done,” she cried.  “I’m at peace with the whole world.  Now don’t look like an ogre any longer.”

“Phronsie’s actually hungry now all the time,” confided Polly in a glow, “and we can’t get enough to satisfy her.”