Polly and the Princess | Page 4

comfortably.
"Need it! I'm a scarecrow with my hair straight!"
Polly took the smooth head between her two palms. "You'll never be a
scarecrow if you live to be a hundred and fifty!" she declared. "But the
dear homely ones--it is hard on them. What do you suppose is the
reason Miss Sniffen won't let them curl their hair just a mite?"
"Walls are said to have ears," replied Miss Sterling, with a little
scornful twist to her pretty mouth. "It wouldn't be safe for me to
express my opinion."
Polly smiled. "It's a shame! And it isn't fair when she has curly hair that
doesn't need any putting up. I just wish hers would straighten
out--straight as Miss Castlevaine's!"

"You seem to have taken a sudden liking to Miss Castlevaine."
"Oh, no! Only I feel sorry for her, she is so fat and fretty, and her hair
won't fluff a mite. It must be dreadful to think as much scorn as she
does."
"And talk it out," added Miss Sterling. "I wish she wouldn't, for she is
really better than she sounds."
"Oh, if she'd try some of Aunt Susie's exercises, perhaps they'd make
her face thin!"
"I thought they were to make it plump."
"So they are--and thin, too, in the right places. They'd cure her double
chin."
"Anyway, she hasn't any dewlap yet. When it comes it will be an awful
one. I can't imagine her in that exercise you tried on me."
"Are you going to do it every day?"
"I would if I had any faith in it." Miss Sterling sighed--with a wrinkled
forehead.
"Oh, you mustn't pucker in wrinkles if I'm going to rub them out!"
Polly smoothed the offending lines. "Now I'll run over home and get
yon that book Aunt Susie gave to mother. It tells all about everything,
and it will make you have faith. It did mother."
"She doesn't need it."
"No; but Aunt Susie said she'd better begin pretty soon, for it was
easier to cure wrinkles before they came."
"Yes, I guess it is," Miss Sterling laughed, "and dewlaps too!"

CHAPTER II
IN MISS MAJOR'S ROOM
When Russell Holiday and his wife named their only child June, they
planned to make her life one long summer holiday. For eighteen years
success went hand in hand with their desire; then an unfortunate
marriage plunged the joyous girl into bleak November. She grew to
hate her happy name. But with the passing of the man she called
husband much of the bitterness vanished, and she began to plan for
others.
"I want this Home to be as beautiful as money can make it and as full
of joy as a June holiday," she told her approving lawyer. "There must
be no age limit. It shall welcome as freely the woman of forty as her
mother or her grandmother. I will gather in the needy of any sect or
race,--the oppressed, the disabled, the sorrowful, and the lonely,--and
as much as can be give to them the freedom and happiness of a
delightful home."
In just one week from the day the ground was broken for the big
building, a drunken chauffeur drove the donor and her lawyer to their
death, and the institution was continued in a totally different way from
that intended by the two who could make no protest.
To be sure, it stood at last, in gray granite magnificence, on the crest of
Edgewood Hill, a palace without and within; but to those for whom it
was built had never come, through the years of its being, a single June
holiday.
It was this that some of the residents were discussing, as they crocheted,
knitted, or embroidered in Miss Major's room on a dull May morning.
"Too bad June Holiday couldn't have lived just a little longer!" Mrs.
Bonnyman sighed.
"What would she say if she knew how her wishes were ignored!" Miss
Castlevaine shook her head.

"Regular prison house!" snapped Mrs. Crump.
"Well, I'm glad to be here if I do have to obey rules," confessed a meek
little woman with grayish, sandy hair. "It's a lovely place, and there has
to be rules where there's so many."
"There don't have to be hair-crimping rules, Mrs. Prindle--huh!"
As the curly-headed maker of the hated law walked across the lawn.
Miss Castlevaine sent her an annihilating glance.
"Is that Miss Sniffen?" queried Miss Mullaly, adjusting her eyeglasses.
Miss Castlevaine nodded.
The others watched the tall, straight figure, on its way to the vegetable
garden.
"She has the expression of a basilisk I saw the picture of the other day."
spoke up Mrs. Dick.
"What kind of an expression was that?" inquired Mrs. Winslow Teed.
"I saw a stuffed basilisk in a London museum when I was abroad, but I
can't