Then Miss Sterling laughed too.

Shortly she fell to crying again.  “I did want to look nice at Cousin Jennie’s wedding, as nice as I could, and I do think it is downright mean!” She hammered out the last words with desperate force.

Polly stood by her side, distressed into silence.

“You don’t know that she’ll let you go anyway, do you?” she asked presently.

“Yes, she said I could, and then I asked her if I might curl my hair.  She snapped out a disagreeable ‘no,’ and I turned and came upstairs.”

Polly was doing some hard thinking.

“Queer, Jennie should marry at her age,” Miss Sterling resumed after a brief pause, wiping her eyes dry.  “She is forty-one, only two years younger than I.”

“Are you forty-three?  Nobody’d ever guess it.”  Polly gazed at her critically.  “I wonder if I couldn’t curl your hair at the last minute, and smuggle you downstairs, all wrapped up, so Miss Sniffen wouldn’t know.  You could wet it out the next morning.”

Miss Sterling shook her head with a wee smile.  “I would if I dared, but I don’t.  If Miss Sniffen weren’t there to see, Mrs. Nobbs would be, and nothing escapes her eyes.  No, ’t would be too much risk.”

“Maybe it would,” Polly admitted, and then paused to listen.  “It’s three o’clock and I must go.  I halfway promised David and Leonora I’d come down there this afternoon.  I guess they’re a little bit jealous of you.  It’s handy to run over here, and they’re so far away.  I should think you’d get tired of me, I come so much.”

“Tired of you!” echoed Miss Sterling.  “You are the only bit of cheerfulness I have to look forward to.  Last night I couldn’t sleep; I was just upset after seeing Miss Sniffen, and my head felt wretched.  But I kept saying to myself, ’Polly will be here in the morning!’ and that helped me through the night.  You don’t know—­you never will know!—­what a comfort you are!” She pulled Polly down and gave her a little squeeze.

“And then I didn’t come this morning after all!” cried Polly in sudden contrition.  “That was mean!  But I had some things to do for mother, and Chris wanted me to help him with his stamps, and so I didn’t get to it.  I’m sorry.”

“Dear child!  I don’t expect you to spend all your time with an old gray-haired woman who hasn’t the mite of a claim on you.”

“Gray-haired!” chuckled Polly.  “You can’t find one gray hair.  I dare you to try!” She shook a threatening finger.

“Don’t have to try.  I know just where there are two—­right in there.”  She bent her head.

“Oh, they’re only a little pale!” laughed Polly.  “They aren’t really gray.  But I must go, Miss Nita.  Good-bye.”

“If you come across the Board anywhere downstairs, you may give it my compliments.”

“Does the Board meet this afternoon?” whispered Polly.  “It wouldn’t be compliments I’d give them!” She waved her hand, and the door shut.