I was
very glad when Polly came.
It was a few weeks after our return that my father proposed to ask
Cousin Polly to pay us a visit. I think my aunt had said something in
a letter about her not being well, and the visit was supposed to be
for the benefit of her health.
She was not ill for long at Dacrefield. My "lessons" were of a very
slight description as yet, and we spent most of our time out of doors.
The fun of showing Polly about the farm and grounds was quite as
satisfactory as any that my dream of the flaxen-haired sister had
promised. I was quite prepared to yield to Cousin Polly in all things
as before; but she, no doubt in deference to my position as host, met
me halfway with unusual affability and graciousness. Country life
exactly suited her. I think she was profoundly happy exploring the
garden, making friends with the cows and horses, feeding the rabbits
and chickens, and "playing at haunted castles" in the barn.
Her vigour and daring when we climbed trees together were the objects
of my constant admiration. Tree-climbing was Polly's favourite
amusement, and the various fancies she "pretended" in connection with
it, did credit to her imaginative powers.
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