"Please go away," Polly demanded haughtily. She had gathered her
bathing gown about her as though it were a Roman matron's robe and was
feeling that her presence must be impressive although her hair was
extremely wet and drops of water were trickling down her face.
However, the intruder paid not the least attention to her request,
except to laugh as though her indignation gave him special pleasure. He
was carrying a large tin pail on one arm and a basket on the other and
of course his behavior was hardly that of a gentleman.
Anger for the moment kept Polly speechless, but a chorus of protests
arose from Betty, Mollie and Esther. "We are camping here and we would
rather not have visitors, so would you mind going back the way you have
come?" Betty requested in her most Princess-like fashion.
"Not until I have seen the sights," the newcomer answered. He did not
really look impertinent, only mischievous, and his eyes were as blue as
Polly's.
"You don't suppose that I have walked a mile before breakfast and
carried these heavy things except to find out what on the face of the
earth you crazy girls are doing here, trying to pretend you are scouts
or Indian squaws. Of all the foolishness!"
Perhaps even this short acquaintance with Polly O'Neill has suggested
that she had, what is for some reason or other called an Irish temper,
though temper does not belong wholly to Irish people.
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