"If only I were not a rich heiress," said Polly next morning, "I dare say I should be better off; for then I simply could n't have gone to bed for two or three months, and idled about like this for another. But there seems to be no end to my money. Edgar paid all the bills in San Francisco, and saved twenty out of our precious three hundred and twelve dollars. Then Mrs.

But progress in art, though beneficial to Lois, was of no use to the Senior class. Polly was at her wit's end. Lois had called a class meeting the day before and forgotten to come to it. School had been running smoothly for over a month by now, and all the strangeness of the first few weeks had worn off. With Thanksgiving in sight, the girls felt that they were well into the year.

"All right; stick out your tongue," directed Durand and Polly promptly fell into the trap, though unluckily she happened to be looking straight past Durand at the moment, and what proved more embarrassing, right at a table occupied by Foxy Grandpa, Helen and Lily Pearl, whom Mrs. Harold had not yet met, so, of course, did not recognize.

I ought to know that name," said dad, as, with Polly and her "nice" boy at his side, he stood watching the roofs and spires of Beach Cliff come into view. "There was a Phil Dolan in my class at Harvard, one of the finest fellows I ever knew; rolling in money, but it didn't hurt him. He is a judge now, and I think he had a brother at West Point. Are you related to them?"

"I don't see what we are going to do, Molly Hapgood; I've a good mind to send you right straight off home." "You've done it before now," Molly began teasingly, but seeing the real trouble in her friend's face, she relented and asked, "What's gone wrong, Polly?" "It hasn't gone, it's only going," answered Polly lugubriously. "It's Mary.

"And she probably knows he is engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!" "That is what stumps me!" exclaimed David. "Such a girl!" "They say she has a fortune in her own name," put in Mrs. Dudley. "Fortune!" scorned the boy. "I wouldn't marry her if she would give me a hundred million!" Mrs. Dudley laughed. "She'd be better than Miss Sniffen," said Polly.

And while Polly petted big Sir Mortimer, she thought of the dear letter, and softly whispered to her pet: "Lena is just as glad that Rose is coming as you, and I are, and she said Rob would be glad, too." There were other little people beside Polly and Lena who were thinking of the first days of school, and of them all, not one was more interested than wee Dollie Burton.

And then began a day of merriment, of unrestraint, such as the backwoods alone knows. The feast was spread out in the long grass under the trees sides of venison, bear meat, corn-pone fresh baked by Mrs. McChesney and Polly Ann herself, and all the vegetables in the patch.

She wrote it painfully, laboriously, in round blocky letters. Pearl always put her tongue out when she was doing anything that required minute attention. She was so anxious to have the address just right that her tongue was almost around to her ear. The address read: Miss Polly Bragg, english gurl and sick with fever Brandon Hospittle Brandon. Then she drew a design around it.

Polly looked over Jasper's arm, and scanned the sketch. "I never saw anything so lovely!" she exclaimed. "And it's just alive! Isn't it, Jasper?" "Yes, it is splendid," he said enthusiastically; "and that's the best part of it it's alive, Polly, as you say." "I'd give anything in all this world, Adela, if I could draw like that," mourned Polly.