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Page 13
"Now, let's both smile together!" cried Rose.
Immediately two pairs of merry eyes looked up at him, and two red mouths
smiled, and showed rows of pearly teeth.
"There!" said Polly, "he ALMOST laughed, and that dimple in his chin
looked DIMPLER than before."
"That's what I told you," said Rose, "and sometimes, when I'm lonesome,
he's a comfort."
At lunch Aunt Rose talked much with Polly, and gentle Aunt Lois seemed
charmed with the little guest.
When lunch was over, Aunt Rose left the little playmates to amuse
themselves, because she felt sure that Polly must have a budget of news
to tell, and they certainly would enjoy their bit of gossip better, if
no older person listened.
They spent the afternoon in the garden, walking along, their arms about
each other's waists.
Later they would care for games, but this first day was delightful just
to talk together.
They passed a little arbor, and Polly stopped to admire it.
Just as she looked up at the vine that blossomed on its roof, a strange
little face peeped over the hedge, then dodged out of sight.
"Who was that?" Polly asked.
"Who? Where?"
"Just behind the hedge," whispered Polly.
Rose looked, and in an opening at the lower part of the hedge she saw a
bit of a dark gray frock.
"Oh, it's Evangeline Longfellow Jenks, the little girl that's going to
be a poet," whispered Rose.
"But you said her poetry was funny," said Polly, as softly as Rose had
spoken.
"It IS" declared Rose, "but she keeps writing it all the time."
Just then Evangeline's round, white face again appeared above the hedge,
and at that moment Aunt Rose came out on the porch.
"Come over here, Evangeline," she said kindly, "and meet our little
guest."
"I'm not dressed up," said the voice behind the hedge, "but I've just
made a poem, and I can read it from here!"
Without waiting to be urged, and in a thin, high-pitched voice, she read
these lines, which she earnestly believed were beautiful:
"Oh, the sun is shining,
And the moon is near by;
I can't see the moon,
But it's in the sky-
Somewhere.
"I need no sun or moon;
I'll be a poet soon.
I write every day
Some kind of a lay-
Somewhere."
"What DOES she mean?" whispered Polly.
"I don't think it means ANYTHING, but she enjoys making up verses
whether they mean anything or not," Rose whispered in reply.
Polly was anxious to see what the little girl looked like who felt that
she was to be a poet, but Evangeline Longfellow Jenks did not intend to
be seen in an ordinary frock.
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