"Just to tell me about the girls," said Polly. "He says they're going to have a pony, and everything." "How well Alan has been, all summer," remarked her mother. There was a sudden click of the gate-latch, and a tall figure came up the walk. "Sitting here in the damp, Isabel, and catching your death of cold! I can't afford time to sit around in the dark doing nothing, when I think of all the good that can be done around us." And Aunt Jane stalked past them into the house, and sat down to cut the leaves of the last scientific magazine. However, though Mrs. Adams did not reply, she had made up her mind that her usual goodnight talk with Polly was far more important than all the clubs in the world, and no words from Aunt Jane could induce her to give up her nightly habit. CHAPTER V. TWO MORE GIRLS. "It does seem as if to-morrow afternoon never would come," Molly was saying, as she and Polly stood leaning on the fence in the early twilight. "What time will they get here?" Polly asked her. "Three o'clock, and I just feel as if I couldn't wait, when I think how every minute is bringing them along. It's going to be splendid to have them here. You must come over to see them the very first thing, Polly, for I want them to know my best friend right away." "I do hope they'll be nice," said Polly thoughtfully. "Nice!" echoed Molly. "Of course they are. I'll tell you what, Polly, Alan has been running them down to you. He is so queer about it; I should think he'd like to have them come. They're just as pretty as they can be, and boys always like pretty girls." "Oh, dear," sighed Polly; "how nice it would be to be pretty!" "Why, you aren't so bad, Polly." And Molly surveyed her with frank criticism. "If only your nose wasn't quite so puggy, and you didn't have quite so many freckles, you'd be real good-looking. Besides, Alan says he likes your looks better than he does Florence's." "Does he?" And Polly flushed with pleasure. "Yes, he told mamma so the other day; you know boys have queer tastes," answered Molly flatteringly. "But I wish I did know of something to take off freckles and tan," said Polly, rubbing her cheeks with a vicious force. "Aunt Jane wants me to wear a veil and keep white; but I'd rather be black and speckled all over, than make a mummy of myself. I think fresh air and sunshine were made to be enjoyed, and not to be peeked out at through a rag." "It must be horrid to freckle," said Molly sympathetically. "Did you ever try anything for it, Poll?" "No, only lemon juice once, and it all ran into my eyes and made them smart; but it didn't touch the freckles any." "They say buttermilk is good," suggested Molly. "Why not try that?" "That's a good idea," said Polly. "We have some, and I don't believe it would hurt. How do you use it, Molly? I'll do it to- night, and then I could start white with your cousins, anyway; and so much depends on first impressions, you know."