Princess Pollys Gay Winter | Page 8

floating by, None in the world

is happier Than you, my love, and I."
CHAPTER III
GWEN
Little Sprite Seaford felt so completely "at home," that it seemed to her
as if she had always lived at Avondale. There were times when she felt
homesick. At early morning, before Polly was awake, she would lie
with wide open eyes, gazing around the lovely room, and missing the
dear voices that always greeted her so cheerily. At twilight, when the
shadows grew deeper, there would be a longing for the dear ones at
home, and her loving little heart would ache, and she would have to
struggle to keep back the tears.
She knew, however, that she must be a bright, cheerful little guest. Had
not dear father and mother said so?
Throughout the sunny days she was the life of the merry playmates
who lived so near that they were always together. Polly and Rose she
had played with at the shore in the Summer, and at the children's party
that Mrs. Sherwood had given, she had met the boys and girls who had
come from Avondale for that evening.
They had all liked the "little Sea Nymph," as they had called her, and
now were glad to renew the acquaintance.
There was one small girl who, thus far, had shown no interest in Polly's
guest, and that was Gwen Harcourt.
She had seen Sprite with Polly, and her playmates, but she had watched
them from a distance.
From her own piazza she could look across to Sherwood Hall, and see
the children at play.
In a few days she had tired of watching the merry friends, and she
longed to join them. She had heard Lena Lindsey say that Sprite was

charming.
Leslie Grafton, only the day before, had said that one reason why she
enjoyed playing with Sprite was because she was so different from any
girl that she knew.
What was this "difference" that Leslie spoke of?
Harry Grafton had declared that little Sprite was a trump.
"What's a trump?" said Gwen, as she sat swinging her feet, and looking
up and down the avenue.
"What's a trump?"
She was perched on the top of the stone post at the entrance to the
driveway, and watching intently for a glimpse of little Sprite.
She had been curious about the new little girl ever since the first day
that she arrived at Avondale. Now, she was determined to know her.
"If she'd go by while I'm sitting here I'd make her come into my garden.
I'd like to have her all to myself the first time I talk to her," she said
softly.
Of course Gwen wished to meet Sprite when she was quite alone.
Anyone who had ever known Gwen would know why.
She knew that all of her playmates were aware that she told very large
stories, and that none of them were true.
If she had Sprite, quite by herself, she could tell what she chose. Luck
favored her, for she had sat on the great post but a moment longer,
when a soft voice singing made her look up.
Sprite, her hands filled with flowers, was coming toward her.
She was looking down at her blossoms, and did not notice the child on
the post.

"Bright, glist'ning summer sea, Bring thou a ship to me, Sailing so
gallantly over the main. Down deep within its hold Will there be bags
of gold, Or sparkling gems untold, All, all for me? Now my heart cries
to thee; Bring not from o'er the sea Bright glitt'ring gems for me, nor
bags of gold. I'd rather have a heart, Mine from all else apart, From him
I'd never part, Love's more than gold."
Little Sprite Seaford had learned the song in her home by the sea. Its
words were tender, its melody graceful and sweet, but Gwen Harcourt
cared little for music. Her only thought was to startle Sprite. With this
delightful thought in her mind, she waited until Sprite was about to
pass the post, when she slipped to the ground directly in front of her,
causing her to "jump," and drop half of her flowers.
"Oh, how you frightened me!" she cried, as Gwen peeped impudently
right into her face.
"Mustn't be a 'fraidie cat'!" she cried, then--"Here! I'll pick up your
flowers."
With haste she snatched the flowers from the sidewalk, and thrusting
them into Sprite's hand, she said:
"This is where I live. Come in. I want to know you. My name is Gwen
Harcourt. What's yours?"
"I am Sprite Seaford," was the gentle answer.
"My whole name is Gwendolen Armitage Harcourt. Rather grand, isn't
it?" Gwen asked, her hands on her hips, and her feet wide apart.
"Mine is just Sprite Seaford," she said, quietly.