sh her visit at "Cousin Horatio's."

"And I am so glad too," confessed Polly, but feeling as if she oughtn't
to say it. "And isn't everything just beautiful, Jasper!"

"I should think it was!" cried Jasper jubilantly. "Just as perfect as
can be, Polly."

And the next afternoon, when the last preparations for the grand
entertainment were made, and everybody was rushing off to dress for
dinner, a carriage drove up the winding driveway. There were big trunks
on the rack, and two people inside.

Joel, racing along the hall with Tom at his heels, took one look. "Oh,
whickets!" he ejaculated, stopping short, to bring his feet down with a
thud.

"What's the row?" asked Tom, plunging up to him in amazement.

"That person." Joel pointed a finger at the carriage. "I must tell
Polly," and off he darted.

Tom, not feeling at all sure that he ought to wait to see "that person,"
wheeled about and followed.

"Polly," roared Joel, long before he got to her. "She's come!"

"Has she?" Polly called back, supposing he meant Alexia. "Well, tell her
to come up here, Joe, in my room."

Joel took the stairs two at a time, Tom waiting below, and dashed into
the blue and white room without ceremony.

"Polly, you don't understand," he blurted out; "she's come!"

Polly had her head bent over a drawer, picking out some ribbons. At the
sound of Joel's voice she drew it out and looked at him.

"Why, how funny you look, Joe!" she said. "What is the matter?"

"I guess you'd look funny," said Joel glumly, "if you'd seen Mrs.
Chatterton."

"_Not Mrs. Chatterton!_" exclaimed Polly aghast; and jumping up, her
face very pale, and upsetting her box of ribbons, she seized Joel's
arm.

"Tell me this very minute, Joel Pepper," she commanded, "what do you
mean?"

"Mrs. Chatterton has just come. I saw her coming up the drive. There's
Johnson now letting her in." Joel had it all out now in a burst, ready
to cry at sight of Polly's face, as the bustle in the hall below and the
thin, high voice proclaimed the worst.

"Oh, Joel, Joel!" mourned Polly, releasing his arm to wring her hands.
"What _shall_ we do?"

"She's an old harpy," declared Joel; "mean, horrid, old thing!"

"Oh, stop, Joel!" cried Polly, quite horrified.

"Well, she is," said Joel vindictively, "to come before we'd got back to
school."

"Well, don't say so," begged Polly, having hard work to keep back her
own words, crowding for utterance. "Mamsie wouldn't like it, Joey."