'
Supper ended, and they gathered round the camp-fire, but nothing was
quite as usual. It was all very well to crack jokes, but where was a
certain merry laugh that was wont to ring out, at the smallest
provocation, in such an infectious way that everybody else followed
suit? And who was there, when Polly had the headache, to make a
saucy speech and look down into the fire innocently, while her
dimples did everything that was required in order to point the shaft?
And pray what was the use of singing when there was no alto to Bell's
treble, or of giving conundrums, since it was always Polly who
thought of nonsensical answers better than the real ones? And as for
Jack, why, it was folly to shoot arrows of wit into the air when
there was no target. He simply stretched himself out beside Elsie,
who was particularly quiet and snoozed peacefully, without taking any
part in the conversation, avowing his intention to 'turn in' early.
'Turn in' early, forsooth! What was the matter with the boy?
'It's no use,' said Bell, plaintively; 'we can't be anything but
happy, now that we have Elsie here; but it needs only one small
headache to show that Polly fills a long-felt want in this camp. You
think of her as a modest spoke in the wheel till she disappears, and
then you find she was the hub.'
'Yes,' said Margery, 'I think every one round this fire is simply
angelic, unless I except Jack; but the fact is that Polly is--well,
she is--Polly, and I dare any one to contradict me.
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