“Mercy—­no!  I guess that’s one reason why I haven’t been away; I haven’t had life enough to want to unwind red tape.”

“I shall love it,” laughed Polly.  “Shall we ask Mrs. Albright?  She’s nice.”

“Yes, and how would you like Mrs. Adlerfeld?  I think she’s pretty lonely.”

“First-rate!  She is sweet, and she talks the dearest way.  Hurry up now, and get ready!  I’ll be back in no time with the passports.”

“Why, I don’t know,” Miss Sniffen hesitated, “How far is it, do you say?”

“We take the trolley out to Grafton Street,” Polly explained slowly, “and then we go ’cross lots just a little way to the dearest grove and a lovely little brook that tumbles over the stones—­oh, it’s beautiful!  Can’t you go with us, Miss Sniffen?” cried Polly in a burst of generosity, shivering the next minute for fear her invitation would be accepted!

“No, thank you,” actually smiled the superintendent; “my business doesn’t include picnics, and I doubt whether it would be wise for Miss Sterling to go so far away from the Home.  It might cause trouble—­and unnecessary expense; the others may go if they wish.”

“Oh, Miss Sniffen, please let Miss Sterling go!  That’s one reason why I want it, because I think it will do her good,” wheedled Polly, adding tactfully, “Father says it often makes the nerves better to get the muscles tired.”

“Yes, I think that myself.  Of course, it would do her no real harm, if you could manage to keep her from getting wrought up and having one of her tantrums.”

“Oh, I promise you I’ll bring her home as good as new!” declared Polly recklessly.  And with profuse thanks she darted softly away.

The four walked sedately down the long stairs in repressed glee, the three ladies waiting on the piazza while Polly registered their names, destination, time of starting, and expected return, in the daybook on the secretary’s desk.

“Red tape all wound up!” she finally announced in a whisper, and the quartette proceeded to the corner below, to be in readiness for the car.

Juanita Sterling appeared to have lost her weak nerves somewhere on the way, as the four left the road behind them and made a path through the clover into the distance.

“I want to sit right down and enjoy it!” she exclaimed, dropping among the blossoms.  “Hear that bird!  It’s a bobolink—­it is!  Oh, me!  Oh, my!  I haven’t heard a bobolink for—­I’m not going to bother to think how long.  It is glorious!”

“This isn’t anything compared to the woods and the brook,” asserted Polly.

She put down her lunch-basket and snipped off some clover heads.

“Those are full of honey, Miss Nita,—­taste!  They aren’t buggy a mite.”

Like bees they sipped and sipped, and laughed and said foolish things like children at a merry-making.

Suddenly Miss Sterling sprang to her feet.