Her vigour and daring when we climbed trees together were the objects of my constant admiration. Tree-climbing was Polly's favourite amusement, and the various fancies she "pretended" in connection with it, did credit to her imaginative powers. Sometimes she "pretended" to be Jack in the Beanstalk; sometimes she pretended to be at the mast-head of a ship at sea; sometimes to be in an upper story of a fairy-house; sometimes to be escaping from a bear; sometimes (with recollections of London) to be the bear himself on a pole, or a monkey in the Zoological Gardens; or to be on the top of the Monument or of St. Paul's. Our most common game, however, was the time-honoured drama of "houses." Each branch constituted a story, and we used to emulate each other in our exploits of high climbing, with a formula that ran thus:-- "Now I'm in the area" (the lowest branch). "Now I'm on the dining-room floor" (the next), and so on, ending with, "And now I'm the very poor person in the garret." There were two trees which stood near each other, of about equal difficulty. We used each to climb one, and as we started together, the one who first became the "very poor person in the garret" was held to be the winner of the game. We were not allowed to climb trees on Sunday, which was a severe exercise of Polly's principles. One Sunday afternoon, however, much to my amazement, she led me away down the shrubbery, saying, "My dear Regie! I've found two trees which I'm sure we may climb on Sundays." Much puzzled, I nevertheless yielded to her, being quite accustomed to trust all her proceedings. I was not enlightened by the appearance of the trees, which were very much like others as to their ladder-like peculiarities. They were old Portugal laurels which had been cut in a good deal at various times. They looked very easy to climb, and did not seem to boast many "stories." I did not see anything about them adapted for Sunday amusement in particular. But Polly soon explained herself. "Look here, Regie," said she; "this tree has got three beautiful branches, one for the clerk, one for the reading-desk, and one for the pulpit. I'm going to get into the top one and preach you a sermon; and you're to sit in that other tree--it makes a capital pew. I'm sure it's quite a Sunday game," added Polly, mounting to the pulpit with her accustomed energy. I seated myself in the other tree; and Polly, after consuming some time in "settling herself," appeared to be ready; but she still hesitated, and finally burst out laughing. "I beg your pardon," she added, rubbing her hands over her laughing mouth, and composing herself. "Now I'm going to begin." But she still giggled, which led me to say-- "Never mind the text, as you're laughing. Begin at once without." "Very well," said Polly. There was another break down, and then she seemed fairly grave. "My dear brethren," she began. "There's only one of us," I ventured to observe.