“Cancer!  Polly!” Miss Sterling laughed out.

“Well, I don’t know what it is.”  Polly laughed in sympathy.

“Look here!” The little lady raised herself on her elbow and lifted her chin.  “See that!”

Polly peered at the fair, pink skin.

“What?  I don’t see anything.”

“Why, that!  It’s getting wabbly.”  Her slim forefinger pushed the flesh back and forth.

“Oh!” Polly’s face brightened.  “I remember!  That’s what Grandaunt Susie called it!  She said she used to have an awful one—­it hung ’way down.  And she cured it!  You’d never dream she had one ever!”

“Oh, yes, you can do away with such things if you have money—­if you can go to a beauty-doctor!” The tone was bitter.

“No, she didn’t!” hastened the eager voice.  “She did it herself!”

“Of course, if you have expensive creams and all the paraphernalia—­”

“But she didn’t—­she said so!  She just used olive oil!”

“How old was she?” Miss Sterling inquired with a now-I-’ve-got-you air.

“She was seventy when she had the dewlap; now she’s seventy-three or four.”

“Polly Dudley!  I don’t believe it!”

“Why, Miss Nita, I’m telling you the solemn truth!”

“Yes, yes, child!  I didn’t mean you!  But this Aunt Susie—­”

“Oh, she’s just as honest!  Why, she’s mother’s grandaunt, and she’s lovely!  She was sick and couldn’t do anything, and her hair was thin and her cheeks hung down and she was all wrinkles and she had the dewlap—­she said she looked dreadful.  Now you ought to see her!  She’s perfectly well, and her hair is as thick, and it’s smooth and solid all under her chin, and her face is ’most as round as mine!”

“How did she work the miracle?” Miss Sterling’s eyes twinkled.

“Why, I guess by massage and exercises.  She didn’t take anything.  She did lots of stunts; she had piles of them for her legs and arms and neck and face and feet and all over.  She made up mighty funny faces.  You lie over this way, and I’ll show you one.

“First you must smile—­just as hard as you can.”  Polly laughed to see the prompt grin.  “Now I’ll put my hands so, and you must do exactly as I tell you.”  Polly’s little palms were pressed against the other’s cheeks, and she began a rotary motion.

“Open your mouth—­wide, and then shut it again—­oh, keep on smiling!  And keep your mouth 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?”