Yes, the Board was in session, the Board of Managers of the June Holiday Home.  A little hum of voices came to Polly’s ears from a room at the left.  “I wish—­” She stopped midway between the staircase and the front entrance, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

A maid came from the rear of the house, duster in hand.

“Oh, Mabel!” Polly began in a low tone, “would you mind taking a message to the Board for me?”

The girl, with a shade of surprise on her face, said, “Certainly, Miss Polly, I’ll take it in.  Who shall I give it to?”

“Mrs. Beers—­she’s president.  Tell her, please, that I have something very important to say to the Board, and ask her if I can come in now, or pretty soon—­whenever it won’t interfere with their business.”

The maid knocked and disappeared.  In a moment she returned.

“She says you can come now.”

There was very evident curiosity mingled with the smiles of greeting.

“I happened to think,” Polly began at once, “that maybe you could do something to help out matters.  I’ve been up to see Miss Sterling, and she is feeling pretty bad because she can’t curl her hair to go to her cousin’s wedding, and I didn’t know but you would fix things so she can.”

“’Fix things’?” scowled the lady at the head of the table.  “You mean, put on an electric attachment?”

“Oh, no!” Polly came near disgracing herself by a laugh.  “But it’s against the rule, you know, to curl your hair, and Miss Sterling asked if she couldn’t, just for the evening, and Miss Sniffen said no.”

The ladies gazed at one another, plain surprise on their faces.  Then they looked questioningly at their presiding officer.

“The Board never interferes with the superintendent’s rules—­” began Mrs. Beers.

“Unless it is something we especially don’t like,” put in the member with a conscience.

The president sent a severe glance down the table.

“I thought, maybe, just for this once, you’d fix it so she could—­she would wet it all out before breakfast.”  Polly was very much in earnest.

“There’s altogether too much complaint among the inmates,” spoke up a fat woman on Mrs. Beers’s left.  “They should be made to realize how fortunate they are to have such a beautiful Home to live in, instead of finding fault with every little thing and sending people to try to wheedle us into giving them something different from what they have.”

“Oh, Mrs. Puddicombe!” burst out Polly, “Miss Sterling didn’t send me at all!  She doesn’t know a thing about it!  I never thought of coming in until I passed the door—­then it occurred to me that maybe you would like to help her out.  It’s pretty hard to have to go to a wedding with your hair all flat, just as they do it at a hospital—­I don’t believe you’d like it yourself, Mrs. Puddicombe.”

Several smiles were visible.  A titter escaped the youngest member.