Princess Pollys Gay Winter | Page 9

"Don't you wish you had a middle name?" said Gwen. "It sounds fine."
"I don't think I care," said Sprite.
Gwen was rather surprised that Sprite seemed little interested.

"Come over here," she said, "and I'll show you something I guess you
never saw before."
Without waiting to learn if Sprite cared to go, Gwen grasped her arm,
and literally tugged her inside the gateway.
"See these rose bushes?" she asked.
"Well, they're out of blossom now, but they had much as, oh, I guess a
hundred roses on them all at one time!"
Then seeing Sprite's look of surprise, she decided to enlarge her story.
"I guess there must have been a thousand, now I think of it," she said.
"Papa paid twenty dollars a piece for them, and maybe it was more than
that. I'm not quite sure."
Sprite made no comment.
"And I planted one of the bushes, and I'll tell you something real funny
about it," Gwen said. "I planted it upside down just to see what it would
do, and what do you s'pose? After it had been there 'bout a month I dug
it up, and there were roses on it! It had blossomed down in the dirt!
They were bigger than the ones that had been planted the right way,
and they might have been even bigger if I hadn't dug them up so soon."
Sprite's truthful eyes were looking straight into Gwen's bold blue ones.
"Are you sure that happened?" she asked.
"Well, what do you s'pose?" Gwen asked pertly, and then, without
waiting for a reply she caught Sprite's hand and hurried with her into
the great hall.
"I brought you in here to show you the pictures," she said, pointing to
the family portraits that adorned the walls.
Sprite looked in admiration at the ladies in their quaint gowns of stiff
brocade, and at the men in their lace frills, and satin waistcoats.

"The pictures are lovely," she said, "and are they portraits of people
that really, truly lived once?"
"Oh, yes," cried Gwen, "and I'll tell you all about them.
"This lady with the pink gown was my great aunt Nora, and that man in
the yellow waistcoat was my great uncle Nathan.
"That lady in green velvet was my great aunt Nina, and that young girl
beside her was her daughter, Arline.
"That little old lady in velvet and lace was my great grandmother, and
the next picture was my own grandma, and I've forgotten who that next
one is, but the next lady's name was Jemima, and the one in yellow silk
was Elvira, and the one in pink muslin was Honoriah, and the next
one,--oh, let me think. What was her name? Oh, I know, it was
Anastasia."
"Why, their names grow worse, and worse the farther you go down the
hall!" cried Sprite.
"Why no they don't," said Gwen, "for over on this wall, the first picture,
this one of the lady with the dog is called Lucretia, and that next one's
name was Abagail."
"Well, their gowns are lovely," said Sprite, "but didn't they use to have
just horrid names?"
"My mamma says those names are 'quaint,'" Gwen replied, "but come
and see this portrait of a little girl. Guess who that is?"
"Oh, how could I?" said Sprite, "I've never known your people."
Gwen moved along until she stood close beside her, then she looked
straight into Sprite Seaford's eyes, and nodding as she spoke, and
shaking her forefinger, she said in a whisper:
"That's a portrait of me!"

"Why--ee!" exclaimed Sprite.
"That is a picture of me!" declared Gwen. "Do you dare to say it
doesn't look like me?"
Gwen's eyes were flashing, but the sea captain's little daughter was no
coward.
"Of course I dare," she said, "for your eyes are blue, and your hair is
light, while the little girl in the picture has brown eyes, and brown
curling hair."
"How do you know that my hair hasn't been that color, some time or
other?" Gwen asked sharply.
"I don't s'pose I do know," Sprite said simply, "but I don't believe folks
have brown hair and have it turn light yellow, and I don't believe brown
eyes turn blue, so I don't see how that little girl in the picture is you."
Gwen was breathing fast. She was very angry, but she dared not say
harsh words yet.
She wanted this little Miss Seaford to like her, and to be willing to play
with her, so she only repeated: "I say that that little girl in the picture is
me!"
Sprite turned toward the door.
"Princess Polly may be looking for me," she said, "so I'll go, now."
As she stepped out into the sunshine she remembered something that
she should have said,