Polly and the Princess | Page 3

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. I should
laugh before I got through twenty-five times, I'm sure. What's it for,
anyhow?"
"To make the cheeks plump up and not sag--oh, yours look so pink!"
Polly danced over to the dresser and back.
The handglass showed a face of surprise. The thin, white cheeks had
taken on a soft rose tint and--yes, an extra fullness!
"Queer!" Miss Sterling ejaculated. "I wouldn't have believed it!"
"Oh, let's try it again! Then you get up and go to walk with me--won't

you?"
"I can't, Polly! Wish I could! But I don't feel as if I could even stand up.
I suppose I shall have to go down to dinner. I don't dare not."
"Haven't you had any breakfast?"
"No. Folks that can't get up don't need to eat." She laughed sadly. "It's
well I'm not hungry."
"But you ought--"
"Tap! tap!"
The matron opened the door while Polly was on the way.
"Mr. Randolph is at the other end of the building and will be here
presently to see about the new wing."
Mrs. Nobbs was gone.
"Nelson Randolph!" cried Miss Sterling. "Hand me my blue kimono,
Polly, quick! It's right there in the closet, by the door!"
She swung her feet to the floor and caught up her stockings.
"You going to get up?"
"Of course! Hurry! I believe he's coming--no, he isn't! Oh, I can get this
on all right! You fix the bed! Never mind the wrinkles--plump up the
pillows! Yes, hang my clothes anywhere you can find room. There!
Does my hair look all right?"
"Lovely! That kimono is very becoming."
"Little flatterer!"
By the time Nelson Randolph, president of the June Holiday Home,
appeared in the doorway, what he saw was a well-appointed bedroom, a

little blue-clad lady demurely reading a small volume, and Polly
hovering near. With a perfunctory good-morning to Miss Sterling, and
a genial handshake for Dr. Dudley's daughter, he passed with Mrs.
Nobbs to the southwest corner of the apartment. He took a glance
around the ceiling, a look from the window, and some measurements
with a foot-rule; then he walked briskly across the room, nodded
politely, and departed.
"What a lovable man he is!" commented Polly, as the retreating
footsteps told of their safe distance.
"Is he?"
"Don't you know him?" Polly queried.
"Not very well. Probably he doesn't remember me at all. He used to
come to the house occasionally to see father. That was before he was
married. I was only seventeen or eighteen."
"I like to look at him, he is so handsome." Polly's head wagged
admiringly. "I guess he'd remember you all right, only he doesn't know
you're here. He hasn't been president very long, just since Mr. Macy
died. What are they going to build now?"
"I don't know. First I've heard of it. They have more money than they
know what to do with, so they've decided to put up an L and spoil my
view," laughed Miss Sterling.
"I could tell them lots of things better than an L--some new dresses for
Mrs. Crump and Mrs. Albright and Miss Crilly. They've been here
longest and look the worst. That brown one of Mrs. Crump's is just full
of darns."
"Same as mine will be when I've been here as long," added Miss
Sterling.
"Strange, when they have so much money, they don't give the ladies
nice things to wear," mused Polly. "Perhaps that is what makes Mrs.

Crump so cross-grained. Mrs. Albright isn't. She's sweet, I think."
"She is a dear," Miss Sterling agreed. "But she's had enough trouble to
crush most women. I wonder sometimes if anything could make her
blue."
"Miss Crilly's cheerful," observed Polly. "I like her pretty well."
"She is kind-hearted. If only she weren't all gush and giggle! She raves
over everything, cathedral or apron trimming--it's all the same to her."
Polly laughed. "She's rather pretty, I think."
"Too fat."
"No, you can't call her fat; only her bones don't show. I wish Miss
Castlevaine could thin up and show her bones just a little, and I do feel
sorry for her because she can't curl her hair. She'd look a thousand per
cent better with some little fluffs."
"Why don't you be sorry for me?"
"Oh, you don't need curly hair as the rest do!" answered Polly