Half a Dozen Girls | Page 7

"Yes, you can," returned Molly, who had firm faith in her friend's
ability. "You go right to work on it, and you ought to get it all done in a
week or two, so we can give it before school opens."
"And we want just five people in it," said Polly. "I know I can get Alan
to act, if Molly can't."
Molly shrugged her shoulders incredulously, while Jean inquired, with
the calmness of desperation,--
"What shall it be about?"
"John Smith and Pocahontas," replied Polly promptly. "He almost gets
killed, and doesn't quite; so that will get the audience all stirred up, but
save the trouble of dying."
"But that only needs three," observed Florence thoughtfully, "and there
are five of us."
"Doesn't he take her home to England, I'd like to know? There's a
picture in the history where he shows Pocahontas to the queen. One of
us can be king, and the other queen."
"But at court there are always lots of people round," remonstrated
Florence, with an eye to the truth of the situation.
"Never mind; we can make believe that the queen has sent them off, so
as not to scare Pocahontas; that's what they call poetical license," said
Polly. "Jean can see about that. There are lots of splendid things to

wear, right here in this garret. Don't you suppose your mother would let
us take them, Molly?"
"Yes, I know she will," replied Molly.
There was silence for a moment, while the girls considered the matter.
Then Polly returned to her first charge.
"But it will take a good while to get ready to start this, so I'd like to
suggest our doing something else, while we wait."
"Polly has something in her head," said Jean. "Tell us what 'tis, Poll,"
"Well, I'll tell you," said Polly, as she rose and began to walk up and
down the floor. "Aunt Jane was scolding, the other day, because I
hadn't read 'Pilgrim's Progress.' She said it was a living disgrace to me,
and that I must do it, right off. Now, what if we have a reading club and
do it together? Have any of you read it? I don't believe you ever have."
The girls admitted that they had not.
"That's just what I thought," said Polly triumphantly. "It's so stupid that
I can't do it alone, for I read the first page yesterday, and I know. But
we don't any of us want to be 'a living disgrace'; so what if we read
aloud an hour every other afternoon? 'T wouldn't take us so very long,
and," here she laughed frankly, "I don't suppose it would hurt us any."
"I don't know but we ought to," remarked Molly virtuously, while Jean
added,--
"I've heard people say it was like measles. You'd better take it young, if
you did at all."
"When shall we begin?" demanded Polly, fired with enthusiasm at the
prospect.
"To-morrow," said Molly; "and you'd better come here to read, for we
can be nice and quiet up here. Come to-morrow at three, and we'll read
till four."

"Oh!" exclaimed Florence, suddenly springing up, as a small, dark
body came flying in at the open window above her head, and went
tumbling across the floor and down the stairs.
"What was that?" asked Molly, rolling off the bed.
"A green apple. I think," replied Polly, as she ran after it and seized it.
"Yes; here it is."
"That's Alan's doing," said Molly sternly, "I do wish he'd ever let us
alone."
"I don't," said Polly, coming to his defence; "he's ever so much fun. I
get tired of all girls."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Jean quickly, bowing low, in answer to the
compliment.
But Polly missed the bow, for her curly head was out of the window,
and she was laughing down at a slender, light-haired lad who was just
taking fresh aim at the open window.
"Come up here, Alan!" she called.
"Oh, don't, Polly!" remonstrated Molly from within. "He'll laugh at us,
and spoil all our fun."
"No, he won't," answered Polly valiantly; then, more loudly, "What did
you say, Alan?"
"What are you girls about up there?" he inquired.
"Come up and see." And she drew in her head just in time to escape a
second missile.
"All right; I'll come if you'll promise to play something, and not spend
all your time gabbling." And Alan vanished through the side door. A
minute or two afterwards, his shoes were heard clattering up the attic
stairs.

The four girls, whom he found sitting in a row on the edge of the bed,
were such good friends of him and of each other, that the five were
commonly spoken of as "the V," or, sometimes, as "the quintette." Alan
Hapgood, who was