light in her eyes. Cathie had gone
downstairs, and it was getting nearly time to set forth for that
enchanted land--the playhouse!

Polly ran on, scarcely conscious that she was called. "Did you not hear
me?" asked Mrs. Chatterton angrily, coming to her door.

"Oh, I beg pardon," said Polly, really glad ever since that dreadful
time when Mrs. Chatterton was ill, to do anything for her. "For I never
shall forget how naughty I was to her," Polly said over to herself now
as she turned back.

"You may well beg my pardon," said Mrs. Chatterton, "for of all ill-bred
girls, you are certainly the worst. I want you." Then she disappeared
within her room.

"What is it?" asked Polly, coming in. "I shall be so glad to help."

"Help!" repeated Mrs. Chatterton in scorn. She was standing over by her
toilet table. "You can serve me; come here."

The hot blood mounted to Polly's brow. Then she thought, "Oh, what did I
say? That I would do anything for Mrs. Chatterton if she would only
forgive me for those dreadful words I said to her." And she went over
and stood by the toilet table.

"Oh, you have concluded to come?" observed Mrs. Chatterton scornfully.
"So much the better it would be if you could always learn what your
place is in this house. There, you see this lace?" She shook out her
flowing sleeve, glad to display her still finely moulded arm, that had
been one of her chief claims to distinction, even if nobody but this
little country-bred girl saw it.

Polly looked at the dangling lace, evidently just torn, with dismay;
seeing which, Mrs. Chatterton broke out sharply, "Get the basket, girl,
over there on the table, and sew it as well as you can."

"Polly!" called Jasper over the stairs, "where are you?"

Polly trembled all over as she hurried across the room to get the sewing
basket. Grandpapa was not ready, she knew; but she always ran down a
little ahead for the fun of the last moments waiting with Jasper, when
old Mr. King was going to take them out of an evening. And in the
turmoil in her mind, she didn't observe that Hortense had misplaced the
basket, putting it on the low bookcase, and was still searching all over
the table as directed, when Mrs. Chatterton's sharp voice filled her
with greater dismay.

"_Stupid!_ if you would put heart into your search, it would be easy
enough to find it."

"_Polly_, where _are_ you!" Polly, in her haste not to displease Mrs.
Chatterton by replying to Jasper before finding