"Come!" cried Polly. "I'll show you all the prettiest places."
The big cat followed them, trotting along the gravel walk, pausing
whenever they did, as if all that Polly was showing was new to him.
And when they had admired the rippling brook that ran through the
garden, the tall white lilies standing in queenly grace beside the
stone wall, the terraces crowned with rose bushes, and the gorgeous
beds of geraniums, they ran back to the piazza, and seated themselves
in the hammock that swung in the breeze.
"Do you remember any of the pretty songs you used to sing last Summer
when we were out on the beach, or sitting on the ledge?" Polly asked.
"There's one I always like to sing when I'm in a dory," Sprite said.
"Then let's rock this hammock, and play it's a dory, and while we're
swinging, you sing," Polly said.
With a voice in which a thrill of happiness made wondrous music, little
Sprite sang:
"Bright is the sky above us,
Blue is the sea below.
Seagulls are hovering 'round us
Fluttering to and fro.
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