“Good—­good!” cried the girls.

“I’m going to send her some of my orange jelly,” declared Alexia.  “I’ll make it just as soon as I go home.  Do you think she will like it, Polly?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes, I do believe she will,” said Polly, “because she loves oranges so.”

“Well, I shan’t make any old orange jelly,” cried Cathie, her nose in the air.  “Faugh! it’s insipid enough!”

“But ’tisn’t when it’s made the way Alexia makes it,” said Polly, viewing in alarm the widening of the breach between the two.  “I’ve eaten some of hers, and it’s too splendid for anything.”

“I don’t know anything about hers, but all orange jelly I have tasted is just horrid.  I hate it!  I’m going to make almond macaroons.  They’re lovely, Polly.”

“Oh! don’t, Cathie,” begged Polly in distress.

“Why not, pray tell,” whirling on one set of toes.  “You needn’t be afraid they won’t be good.  I’ve made them thousands of times.”

“But she couldn’t eat them,” said Polly.  “Just think, almond macaroons!  Why, Papa-Doctor would”—­

“Now I know the doctor makes you take perfectly terrible things, and won’t let you eat anything.  And macaroons are the only things I can make.  It’s a shame!” and down sat Cathie in despair on an ottoman.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Fisher put his head in at the doorway, his spectacled eyes sending a swift glance of inquiry around.

“O dear me!” exclaimed Cathie in a fright, jumping up and clutching the arm of the girl next to her.  “Don’t let Polly tell him what I said—­ don’t.”

“Polly won’t tell,” said the girl, with a superb air; “don’t you know any better, Cathie Harrison, you goose, you!”

To be called a goose by two persons in the course of an hour was too much for Cathie’s endurance, and flinging off the girl’s arm, she cried out passionately, “I won’t stay; I’m going home!” and rushed out the door.

Dr. Fisher turned from a deliberate look at the girl’s white cheeks, as she ran past, to the flushed ones before him.

“I’m very sorry that anything unpleasant has happened.  I dropped in to tell you of a little surprise, but I see it’s no time now.”

“Oh, Papa-Doctor!” cried Polly, flying up to him from the center of the group, “it was nothing—­only”—­

“A girl’s quarrel is not a slight thing, Polly,” said little Dr. Fisher gravely, “and one of your friends has gone away very unhappy.”

“Oh!  I know it,” said Polly, “and I’m so sorry.”

“We can’t any of us help it,” said Alexia quickly.  “Cathie Harrison has the temper of a gorilla—­so there, Dr. Fisher.”

Dr. Fisher set his spectacles straight, and looked at Alexia, but he did not even smile, as she hoped he would do.  “I can’t help it,” she said, tracing the pattern of the carpet with the toe of her boot, “she makes us all so uncomfortable, oh! you can’t think.  And I wish she’d stay home forever.”