Polly and the Princess | Page 2

longer, I piped out, 'Cousin Dorothy, please can I have my waffles now?' Of course, my mother was dreadfully mortified, for some of the guests were strangers, and very great people; but Dorothy took it as a mighty good joke, and even after I was married she used to laugh about my 'w'awful' disappointment. I've not gotten over my appetite for waffles either! I believe I could eat and relish them three times a day."
"You couldn't! Just wait till you've had 'em fifty-two times a year, five years running--as I have!" Mrs. Crump's lips made a straight line.
"Mrs. Crump has kept tabs on her waffles," giggled Miss Crilly. "How many does this morning make--five hundred and--?"
"Sh!" nudged Mrs. Bonnyman at Miss Crilly's elbow.
Two youngish women entered the room. They were the superintendent and the matron.
Upstairs, meanwhile, Miss Juanita Sterling; in bed, and Polly Dudley, seated on the outside, were having a familiar talk.
"I shouldn't think you'd want to die till God gave you something to die of," Polly was saying wistfully. "I think He must want you to live, or He would give you something to die of. Perhaps He has some beautiful work for you to do and is waiting for you to get well and do it."
"Polly, I cannot work! And there is no lack of things for me to die of!" Impatience crept into the sweet voice. "Being in prison is bad enough even with good health; but to be sick, wretched--the worst kind of sickness, because nobody understands!--and to grow old, too, grow old fast--oh, I wish God would let me die!" The little woman gave a sudden whirl and hid her face in the pillow.
"Don't, Miss Nita!" Polly's voice was distressed. She stroked the smooth, soft hair. "Don't cry! You're not old! You're not old a bit! And you're going to be well--father says so!"
"That won't take away the dewlap--oh!" cried Miss Sterling fiercely, "I don't want a dewlap!"
"Dewlap?" scowled Polly. "What's a dewlap?"
"Polly! You know!" came from down among the feathers.
"I don't!" Polly protested. "Is it some kind of--cancer?"
"Cancer! Polly!" Miss Sterling laughed out.
"Well, I don't know what it is." Polly laughed in sympathy.
"Look here!" The little lady raised herself on her elbow and lifted her chin. "See that!"
Polly peered at the fair, pink skin.
"What? I don't see anything."
"Why, that! It's getting wabbly." Her slim forefinger pushed the flesh back and forth.
"Oh!" Polly's face brightened. "I remember! That's what Grandaunt Susie called it! She said she used to have an awful one--it hung 'way down. And she cured it! You'd never dream she had one ever!"
"Oh, yes, you can do away with such things if you have money--if you can go to a beauty-doctor!" The tone was bitter.
"No, she didn't!" hastened the eager voice. "She did it herself!"
"Of course, if you have expensive creams and all the paraphernalia--"
"But she didn't--she said so! She just used olive oil!"
"How old was she?" Miss Sterling inquired with a now-I-'ve-got-you air.
"She was seventy when she had the dewlap; now she's seventy-three or four."
"Polly Dudley! I don't believe it!"
"Why, Miss Nita, I'm telling you the solemn truth!"
"Yes, yes, child! I didn't mean you! But this Aunt Susie--"
"Oh, she's just as honest! Why, she's mother's grandaunt, and she's lovely! She was sick and couldn't do anything, and her hair was thin and her cheeks hung down and she was all wrinkles and she had the dewlap--she said she looked dreadful. Now you ought to see her! She's perfectly well, and her hair is as thick, and it's smooth and solid all under her chin, and her face is 'most as round as mine!"
"How did she work the miracle?" Miss Sterling's eyes twinkled.
"Why, I guess by massage and exercises. She didn't take anything. She did lots of stunts; she had piles of them for her legs and arms and neck and face and feet and all over. She made up mighty funny faces. You lie over this way, and I'll show you one.
"First you must smile--just as hard as you can." Polly laughed to see the prompt grin. "Now I'll put my hands so, and you must do exactly as I tell you." Polly's little palms were pressed against the other's cheeks, and she began a rotary motion.
"Open your mouth--wide, and then shut it again--oh, keep on smiling! And keep your mouth going all the time, while I do the massaging."
"Goodness!" Miss Sterling broke into a laugh. "I should think that was a stunt! It ought to do something." She turned on the pillow in another paroxysm of mirth.
"But you made me stop too soon," objected Polly. "You ought to open and shut your mouth twenty-five times. 'Most everything Aunt Susie did twenty-five or fifty or a hundred times."
"I don't wonder she got well! She'd have to if she didn't die.