tion, and heaps of courage, but
she was always supposed to want ballast. It was the fashion in the house
to be a little more lenient to Polly's misdemeanors than to any one
else's. When a very little child, Nurse had excused ungovernable fits of
rage with the injudicious words, "Poor lamb, she can't help herself!"
The sisters, older or younger, yielded to Polly, partly because of a
certain fascination which she exercised over them, for she was extremely
brilliant and quick of idea, and partly because they did not want her to
get into what they called her tantrums. Father, too, made a pet of her,
and perhaps slightly spoiled her, but during mother's lifetime all this
did not greatly matter, for mother guided the imperious, impetuous,
self-willed child, with the exquisite tact of love. During mother's
lifetime, when Polly was naughty, she quickly became good again; now
matters were very different.

Mrs. Cameron was a woman who, with excellent qualities, and she had
many, had not a scrap of the "mother-feel" within her. There are women
who never called a child their own who are full of it, but Mrs. Cameron
was not one of these. Her rule with regard to the management of young
people was simple and severe--she saw no difference between one child
and another. "Spare the rod and spoil the child," applied equally in
every case, so now, constituting herself Polly's rightful guardian in
the absence of her father, she made up her mind on no account to spare
the rod. Until Polly humbled herself to the very dust she should go
unforgiven. Solitary confinement was a most safe and admirable method of
correction. Therefore unrepentant Polly remained in her room.

The effects, as far as the culprit was concerned, were not encouraging.
In the first place she would not acknowledge Mrs. Cameron's right to
interfere in her life; in the next harshness had a very hardening effect
on her.

It was dull in Polly's room. The naughtiest child cannot cry all the
time, nor sulk when left quite to herself, and although, whenever Mrs.
Cameron appeared on the scene, the sulks and temper both returned in
full force, Polly spent many long and miserable hours perfectly
distracted with the longing to find something to do. The only books in
the room were Helen's little Bible, a copy of "Robinson Crusoe," and the
Dictionary. For obvious reasons Polly did not care to read the Bible at
present. "Robinson Crusoe" she knew already by heart, but found it
slight