"What is it to-night?" inquired Mrs. Adams, laughing, as she
pulled her light shawl over her shoulders to keep out the evening
air.

"Lots of things, mamma," answered Polly, with a sudden
thoughtfulness; "there's been a good deal to-day."

"About Molly's cousins, for instance?" asked Mrs. Adams.

"Yes," replied Polly; "I don't think we want them, mamma. I know
they won't fit in a bit. And Alan says he doesn't want them."

"That's not quite fair of Alan," said her mother: "he oughtn't to
say so without knowing anything more about them. But, Polly, you
may find them pleasant friends, and like them better than you do
Molly."

Polly shook her head with decision.

"I'm sure I shan't. But I'm afraid Molly will like them better
than she does us."

"Jealous, Polly?" And there was a tone of regret in her mother's
voice as she went on: "I am a little disappointed in my daughter.
Of course, Polly, Molly will be thrown with them a great deal,
much more than with you; and, so long as they are her cousins, she
will probably be fond of them. But, after all these years, can't
you trust Molly's friendship enough to believe that it won't make
any difference in her feeling to you, but that she can love and
care for you all, at the same time?"