"It is a shame, Miss Nita!" Polly was saying. "To think of it—that you can't curl your hair even to go to a wedding! I wonder if father or mother could do anything."

"Oh, no!" cried Miss Sterling, in sudden terror. "Don't, I beg of you, let them say a word to Miss Sniffen! She'd turn me right out!"

"I should wish she would, if I were you."

"Where could I go? I'd have to sit on the sidewalk!"

Polly laughed.

"No, Miss Nita," catching one of the slim white hands and pressing it against her cheek, "you come right over to our house when Miss Sniffen turns you outdoors, and we'll take care of you!"

"It isn't anything to laugh at," sobbed the little woman.

"I know, I'm wicked to laugh; but I had a picture of you sitting on the curb in your nightgown, and I couldn't help it!"

Then Miss Sterling laughed too.

Shortly she fell to crying again. "I did want to look nice at Cousin Jennie's wedding, as nice as I could, and I do think it is downright mean!" She hammered out the last words with desperate force.

Polly stood by her side, distressed into silence.

"You don't know that she'll let you go anyway, do you?" she asked presently.

"Yes, she said I could, and then I asked her if I might curl my hair. She snapped out a disagreeable 'no,' and I turned and came upstairs."

Polly was doing some hard thinking.

"Queer, Jennie should marry at her age," Miss Sterling resumed after a brief pause, wiping her eyes dry. "She is forty-one, only two years younger than I."

"Are you forty-three? Nobody'd ever guess it." Polly gazed at her critically. "I wonder if I couldn't curl your hair at the last minute, and smuggle you downstairs, all wrapped up, so Miss Sniffen wouldn't know. You could wet it out the next morning."

Miss Sterling shook her head with a wee smile. "I would if I dared, but I don't. If Miss Sniffen weren't there to see, Mrs. Nobbs would be, and nothing escapes her eyes. No, 't would be too much risk."

"Maybe it would," Polly admitted, and then paused to listen. "It's three o'clock and I must go. I halfway promised David and Leonora I'd come down there this afternoon. I guess they're a little bit jealous of you. It's handy to run over here, and they're so far away. I should think you'd get tired of me, I come so much."

"Tired of you!" echoed Miss Sterling. "You are the only bit of cheerfulness I have to look forward to. Last night I couldn't sleep; I was just upset after seeing Miss Sniffen, and my head felt wretched. But I kept saying to myself, 'Polly will be here in the morning!' and that helped me through the night. You don't know—you never will know!—what a comfort you are!" She pulled Polly down and gave her a little squeeze.

"And then I didn't come this morning after all!" cried Polly in sudden contrition. "That was mean! But I had some things to do for mother, and Chris wanted me to help him with his stamps, and so I didn't get to it. I'm sorry."

"Dear child! I don't expect you to spend all your time with an old gray-haired woman who hasn't the mite of a claim on you."

"Gray-haired!" chuckled Polly. "You can't find one gray hair. I dare you to try!" She shook a threatening finger.

"Don't have to try. I know just where there are two—right in there." She bent her head.

"Oh, they're only a little pale!" laughed Polly. "They aren't really gray. But I must go, Miss Nita. Good-bye."

"If you come across the Board anywhere downstairs, you may give it my compliments."

"Does the Board meet this afternoon?" whispered Polly. "It wouldn't be compliments I'd give them!" She waved her hand, and the door shut.

Yes, the Board was in session, the Board of Managers of the June Holiday Home. A little hum of voices came to Polly's ears from a room at the left. "I wish—" She stopped midway between the staircase and the front entrance, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

A maid came from the rear of the house, duster in hand.

"Oh, Mabel!" Polly began in a low tone, "would you mind taking a message to the Board for me?"

The girl, with a shade of surprise on her face, said, "Certainly,
Miss Polly, I'll take it in. Who shall I give it to?"

"Mrs. Beers—she's president. Tell her, please, that I have something very important to say to the Board, and ask her if I can come in now, or pretty soon—whenever it won't interfere with their business."

The maid knocked and disappeared. In a moment she returned.

"She says you can come now."

There was very evident curiosity mingled with the smiles of greeting.

"I happened to think," Polly began at once, "that maybe you could do something to help out matters. I've been up to see Miss Sterling, and she is feeling pretty bad because she can't curl her hair to go to her cousin's wedding, and I didn't know but you would fix things so she can."

"'Fix things'?" scowled the lady at the head of the table. "You mean, put on an electric attachment?"

"Oh, no!" Polly came near disgracing herself by a laugh. "But
it's against the rule, you know, to curl your hair, and Miss
Sterling asked if she couldn't, just for the evening, and Miss
Sniffen said no."

The ladies gazed at one another, plain surprise on their faces.
Then they looked questioningly at their presiding officer.

"The Board never interferes with the superintendent's rules—" began Mrs. Beers.

"Unless it is something we especially don't like," put in the member with a conscience.

The president sent a severe glance down the table.

"I thought, maybe, just for this once, you'd fix it so she could—she would wet it all out before breakfast." Polly was very much in earnest.

"There's altogether too much complaint among the inmates," spoke up a fat woman on Mrs. Beers's left. "They should be made to realize how fortunate they are to have such a beautiful Home to live in, instead of finding fault with every little thing and sending people to try to wheedle us into giving them something different from what they have."

"Oh, Mrs. Puddicombe!" burst out Polly, "Miss Sterling didn't send me at all! She doesn't know a thing about it! I never thought of coming in until I passed the door—then it occurred to me that maybe you would like to help her out. It's pretty hard to have to go to a wedding with your hair all flat, just as they do it at a hospital—I don't believe you'd like it yourself, Mrs. Puddicombe."

Several smiles were visible. A titter escaped the youngest member.

Mrs. Puddicombe's broad face reddened under her amazing labyrinth of screwlike curls.

"These charity people," she resumed irrelevantly, "never know when they're well off. Why, this Home is the very gate of heaven! Just look at that new rug in the library—it cost three hundred dollars! But who appreciates it?"

"Well, I should rather walk over a thirty-cent rug than every time I turned round have to have a rule to turn by!" Polly tossed out the words impetuously.

"You're a saucy girl!" returned Mrs. Puddicombe. "You'd better go home and tell your father to teach you good manners." The president rapped for order.

"I beg your pardon, if I was saucy," Polly hastened to say. "I didn't mean to be. I was only thinking—"

"That will do," interrupted Mrs. Beers. "There has been too much time given to a very trivial matter."

Polly walked away from the June Holiday Home in the company of uneasy thoughts. She feared she had made matters worse for her dear Miss Nita.