the hallway.

At once Polly excused herself, and followed.

Ilga turned quickly.

"I'm going home," she said.

"Oh, please don't!" cried Polly, adding faintly, "Are you ill?"

"No; but I guess I'd better go. There's such a rabble here."

"Why, Ilga!" gasped Polly.

"Well, 'tis!" she retorted. "If mamma'd known it, she wouldn't have
let me come; she's very particular who I play with."

"They're just as nice as they can be," protested Polly in a soft,
grieved voice.

"Perhaps they seem so to you. I s'pose that's the kind they have at
hospitals. The little Pole over there, he squeezed my fingers so they
'most ache yet, and that tall Irish kid with the red hair is the worst
of the bunch!"

"Oh, Ilga, he's a splendid boy, and so brave! I'm sure Otto didn't
mean to hurt you; he is kind as can be."

"It's all right, if you want them; but I guess I'll go home. I
thought there'd be something besides just games."

She turned towards the staircase, yet lingered.

"I'm sorry you don't like it," Polly replied simply. "I'll play
anything you wish."

"No, I'm going."

She tossed her head, and took a step upward.

Polly was in terror lest somebody should overhear, for Ilga's voice
was sharp with excitement.

"I'll stay and play with the school boys and girls," the dissatisfied
guest yielded.

"But I can't separate them," Polly protested in dismay.

"Then I'll go home," Ilga decided, and went slowly up the stairs.

Polly followed sadly, but presently returned, having given over to her
mother the care of the Senator's daughter.

Leonora ran to meet her. "What is the matter?" she whispered.

"I know!" spoke up Cornelius. "She don't like the crowd. I had to hear
what she said about me. Say, Polly, I'll get out, if that'll make her
stay."

"You shan't!" Polly's eyes flashed. Then they brimmed with tears. "I
want you, Cornelius--I want you all! I wouldn't have you go for
anything! Come, let's play--what shall we play? You choose,
Cornelius!"

The game was moving pleasantly along when the Barron coach stopped at
the door. For a few minutes the interest of the players flagged; then,
having seen Ilga whirled out of sight, a festive spirit fell upon all,
and the play went on more merrily than before.

Game followed game, and mirth was high, when Elsie Meyer, out for a
forfeit, suddenly cried:--

"Oh, me! oh, my! the fairies have come!"

This was enough to halt the others, and the glimpse of a
white-and-gold