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“Oh, Polly! I do like to look at you!” Roxy exclaimed ardently, and at this the older girl laughed aloud, and responded:

“Well, you can say as pleasant things as any Southern girl. Nobody would think you were born in Massachusetts.”

“Why not, Polly?” Roxy questioned, leaning forward to look eagerly into her companion’s face. “Why wouldn’t anyone think I was born in Massachusetts?”

Polly continued to smile, but she answered quickly:

“I suppose because you have such good manners. But of course your mother was born in Maryland.”

“Polly Lawrence! Stop this horse! Stop this minute!” demanded Roxy, clutching at the reins and scrambling down from the wagon seat as if meaning to jump to the ground. “I don’t want to ride with you. I guess Maryland girls don’t have all the manners. I guess little girls in Newburyport wouldn’t be s’prised to have other girls polite. I guess——”

But before Roxy could say another word Polly’s arm was about her, and Polly was saying:

“Oh, Roxy! I did not mean to be rude. Truly, truly I didn’t. I only meant to praise you!”