ver I think of my future 'career,' as I call it.
Mamma thinks me filled with a burning desire for a wider sphere of
action, and so I am, but chiefly for her sake. Courage! There 's
nothing like having a blessed, tired little mother to take care of,--a
mother whom you want to snatch from the jaws of a horrible fate. That
's a trifle strong, but it's dramatic! You see, Margery, a woman like
my mother is not going to remain forever in her present rank in her
profession,--she is too superior; she is bound to rise. Now, what
would become of her if she rose? Why, first, she would keep a country
hotel, and sit on the front piazza in a red rocker, and chat with the
commercial travelers; and then she would become the head of a summer
resort, with a billiard-room and a bowling-alley. I must be
self-supporting, and 'I will never desert Mr. Micawber,' so I should
make beds and dust in Hotel Number One, and in Hotel Number Two
entertain the guests with my music and my 'sprightly manners,'--that's
what Mr. Greenwood calls them, and the only reason I am sorry we live
in a republic is that I can't have him guillotined for doing it, but
must swallow my wrath because he pays twenty dollars a week and seldom
dines at home. Finally, in Hotel Number Three I should probably marry
the ninepin-man or the head clerk, so as to consolidate the management
and save salaries, and there would end the annals of the Olivers! No,
Margery!" cried Polly, waving the scissors in the air, "everybody is
down on the beach, and I can make the welkin ring if I like, so hear
me: The boarders must go! How, when, and where they shall go are
three problems I have n't yet solved; and what I shall find to take the
place of them when they do go is a fourth problem, and the knottiest
one of all!"

CHAPTER III.

THE DOCTOR GIVES POLLY A PRESCRIPTION.

As the summer wore away, Mrs. Oliver daily grew more and more languid,
until at length she was forced to ask a widowed neighbor, Mrs.
Chadwick, to come and take the housekeeping cares until she should feel
stronger. But beef-tea and drives, salt-water bathing and tonics,
seemed to do no good, and at length there came a day when she had not
sufficient strength to sit up.

The sight of her mother actually in bed in the daytime gave Polly a
sensation as of a cold hand clutching at her heart, and she ran for Dr.
Edgerton in an agony of fear. But good "Dr. George" (as he was always
called, because he bega