Polly and the Princess | Page 9

that Polly's order had
been obeyed.
Where was Polly? Miss Sterling looked around, but she was not in
sight. Even with the springing of a sudden fear she caught the sound of
distant talking--a man's voice! She rose to her feet and stood irresolute,
listening. Then she smiled. That was Polly's laugh' In a moment two
figures rounded a clump of young pines. Juanita Sterling caught her
breath--the man walking beside Polly was Mr. Randolph!
The president of the June Holiday Home found a welcoming hand as he
strode up the piney path.
"Weren't you surprised. Miss Nita?" cried Polly. "He's going to have us
arrested for trespassing on his land!"--with a roguish glance toward the
owner.
"Then we shall have to invite him to luncheon, shan't we?" Miss
Sterling's blue eyes held pleasant twinkles. "It is too pleasant to-day to
go to jail!"
The gentleman chuckled.
"Oh! will you stay?" begged Polly.
"You'd better!" urged Miss Sterling. "There are Banbury turnovers and
chicken sandwiches!"
"It is hard to refuse--" he began. "Oh, I knew you couldn't say no when
Miss Nita asked you!" sang Polly delightedly. "Nobody can! Except
Miss Sniffen!" she added conscientiously.
"Miss Sniffen" appeared to pass unnoticed. Polly suddenly remembered
her handful of wintergreen sprigs and berries, and the sleepers awoke to
join the merriment and the little pungent feast.
"I came up," Mr. Randolph explained, "to look over some trees that a

man wants, and I rather think I ought to go directly back; but," he went
on with a whimsical laugh, "I guess business won't know it if I steal
this June holiday. It is a good while since I had one." His face grew
instantly grave.
"You have to catch June holidays quick," smiled Mrs. Adlerfeld
wistfully. "They don't stay!"
"No, they don't stay," Mr. Randolph agreed gravely. "But," he
brightened, "you of June Holiday Home have them all the year round."
He looked from one face to another.
Mrs. Albright smiled a wordless response, the swift color flushed Miss
Sterling's face, while fun played about Polly's mouth.
"You have a pretty good time there, don't you?" he persisted.
His eyes were bent on Miss Sterling; yet Mrs. Albright kindly
interposed with the safe assertion, "It is a beautiful place."
"Yes, it is beautiful," he replied, scanning the cheery, wrinkled face.
"Any town should consider it a great privilege to have such an
institution within its borders. Mrs. Milworth--or June Holiday, as she
preferred to be called--was a wonderful woman. I am glad to be in a
position to help in the carrying-out of her plans."
Miss Sterling smiled a little queerly. Polly opened her lips, then shut
them tight, and finally announced quite irrelevantly that she was
hungry.
One of Mrs. Dudley's prettiest tablecloths was spread on a little piney
level close to the brook, and Polly set out the paper plates and cups and
the boxes of food.
"Which do you like best, Mr. Randolph, coffee or chocolate?" Polly
queried anxiously.
"I will answer as a little boy of my acquaintance did,--'Whichever you

have the most of.'"
"Well, you see, we have only one, and I do hope you don't like coffee
best."
"I don't!" he declared. "I always drink chocolate when I can get it."
"I'm glad I brought it, then!" cried Polly. "You cut the cake, please,
Miss Nita. I'm afraid I couldn't do it straight."
The little feast was ready at last, appetites were found to be of the
keenest sort, and everything went merrily.
"I have never had the pleasure of a meal at the Home,"--Mr. Randolph
was eating a Banbury turnover with plain enjoyment. "I suppose you
ladies are treated to this sort of thing every day."
"We have a pretty good cook," answered Miss Sterling discreetly; "but
these pies are of Mrs. Dudley's make. Polly brought the lunch."
"Oh!" The man's eyebrows raised themselves a little. "Then I should
say, Mrs. Dudley is an excellent Banbury pie-ist."
"I shall have to tell her that," laughed Polly. "It will please her very
much."
"Nothing delights a woman more than to have her cooking praised,"
laughed Mrs. Albright.
"I learned that years ago." Mr. Randolph smiled reminiscently. "When I
was first married, I think I must have been a rather notional man to
cook for. My wife seldom did much in the kitchen, but one day she
made a salad. As it did not exactly appeal to my appetite, after one taste
I remarked that I was not very hungry. To my dismay she burst into
tears. It was her favorite salad, and she had made it with unusual care,
never dreaming that I would not like it as well as she did. Ever
afterwards I ate the whole bill of fare straight through."
"It sometimes takes courage to