They were taken into a long, wide hall through the middle of which ran a strip of rag carpet, edged with plain wooden settees. Everything was scrupulously neat and clean, but the only ornament in sight was a stuffed poodle under a glass case, above which hung the somewhat inappropriate motto: _God loveth a cheerful giver_. Here they were told to sit down, while the old woman went in search of the matron. The next few moments were rather uncomfortable for all three of the children. Now that they were really inside the institution, they were a little frightened at what they had done; and yet the ridiculous side of their being there struck them so keenly that they dared not speak, for fear of being found laughing, when the all-powerful matron should make her appearance. At length she came, a trim little woman, with an earnest face and a business-like manner. At Polly's request to be allowed to see Miss Bean, she shook her head doubtfully. "It isn't one of our regular visiting days," she began." Was your errand an important one?" "Not very," returned Polly, with a lingering accent on the second word, as she caught the sound of a distant clatter of dishes and breathed in a vague odor of boiled beef. "I am sorry to disappoint you," the matron went on; "and if you have come all the way from town, it is too bad to send you back without seeing her, for a minute. Call Miss Bean," she said to a servant. "What name shall I tell her?" she asked Polly. "Polly Adams, ma'am," answered Polly. The matron became suddenly cordial, like a snowbank under the rays of the spring sun. "Isn't this Dr. Adams's daughter?" she asked. "I thought I saw a familiar look about the lower part of the face." "Yes, Dr. Adams is my father," said Polly, whose hopes of staying sprang into life once more. "Indeed! I am very glad to see you for his sake," returned the matron. "Perhaps he sent you?" "No--o, he didn't send us; we came," faltered Polly. "Never mind; I am glad to see you, anyway. And these are your young friends, I suppose. Wouldn't you all like to stay and have dinner here? It is almost ready," she added, in a generous burst of hospitality. "Thank you, we should be delighted," said Alan hastily, fearing Polly might lose the opportunity by politely hesitating. "Well, Polly Adams, where in the name of time did you come from?" asked Miss Bean's voice behind her. Polly turned around. Could this be Miss Bean, this little, withered figure in the calico gown and white cap? Where was the green and black gown? Where were the lace mitts and the shaker bonnet? However, there could be no doubt of Miss Bean's identity when she said, in her usual abrupt manner,-- "How's your ma? And who are these children?" "This is Alan Hapgood," replied Polly, introducing her friends; "and this is Jessie Shepard." "You don't say so! Henry and Kate Shepard's daughter, from out in Omaha?" "Yes."