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Fayre.
"Where's Dolly?" she demanded.
"Can't you speak a little more politely, Genie?" and Mrs. Fayre smiled pleasantly at the child.
"You ain't my mother to tell me what to say!"
"No; but this is my house and I like to have little girls act nicely here, especially as I know that you have better manners if you choose to use them."
Genie thought a moment, digging her toe into the rug, and at last said:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Fayre. Please may I see Dolly?"
"Why, what a little lady! Yes, indeed; you will find her in her room. Go right up, Genie, dear."
The child trudged upstairs, and entered Dolly's room.
"What do you want?" and Dolly, with suspiciously bright eyes, looked up from the book she was pretending to read.
"You're not so awful polite, either," and Genie's big, black eyes looked sharply at Dolly. "But never mind. I've come over to tell you that Dot's cryin' about you."
"Did she tell you to come?"
"Nope. She don't know I'm here. But I think you're two sillies to spoil your nice birthday by crying about each other."
"I'm not crying!"
"Well, you have been. I can see the cry-marks in your eyes. Nice blue eyes. C'mon over and make up."
"Get Dotty to come over here and make up."
"She won't come."
"Have you asked her?"
"No, but I just know she won't. So let's don't ask her, and you come over there."
"You're a funny little thing, Genie! You know a lot, don't you?"
"'Course I do. Come on, Dolly," and the child pulled at Doily's sleeve.
"All right, I will," and the two went together over to the Rose house.
Dotty in her room, heard Dolly's voice below stairs and came running down. Her anger was all past, and she was more than ready to be friends again.
"Let's go out and see the tent," said Dolly, as the two met in the hall.
"All right, let's," and out they went.
"Did you fix it up, Genie?" said her mother, who had pretty much known what was going on.
"Yes'm, I fixed it up," and Genie ran after the black puppy, who with judicial foresight was running away from her.
"Tell me about the people who are coming, Dolly," said Dotty. "Who are the nicest ones?"
"You may not like the same ones I do; but Clara Ferris is my most intimate friend of the lot."
"As intimate as I am?"
"Well, of course, I've known her so much longer, you see, she seems more intimate."
"But we're sort of twins, you know."
"Only sort of; we're not really. Well, anyway, there's Celia and then there's Maisie May."
"Maisie May! What a funny name!"
"Well, it's her name all the same. And the two Rawlins girls, Grace and Ethel."
"Are they nice?"
"Lovely. They live on the next block below us. Their brother is coming, too. Clayton, his name is."
"What other boys?"
"Oh, Reggie Stuart and Lollie Henry--"
"Lollie! What a ridiculous name for a boy!"
"His real name is Lorillard. He's an awfully nice boy. He plays the cornet in school sometimes for us to march by. Then there's Joe Collins.
He's the funniest thing! Makes you laugh all the time. And a lot of others; I can't tell you about all of them."
"Never mind; I'll catch onto them as they come. Do you think they'll like me, Dolly?"
"Of course they will; why wouldn't they?"
"I don't know; but with such a lot of them, I feel kind of shy."
"Pooh; Dot Rose, you couldn't be shy if you tried!"
"It isn't shy, exactly; but I'm afraid they won't think I'm nice."
"Oh, yes, they will; don't be silly. Anyway, some of them will. And maybe you won't like all of them. Everybody can't like everybody,--you know."
"No, I s'pose not. What do we do? Stand up to receive them?"
"Of course! Did you think we sat down? Haven't you ever had a party?"
"Not such a big one."