That settled the question of Polly's tears, and she began to laugh hysterically, while the others joined in until the dining-room rang with their mirth. "Well," said the doctor, as he pushed back his chair, half an hour later; "if Florence takes the prize for the best cooking, Polly ought to have the one for the best entertainment." The guests went away early, and Polly ran upstairs to take off her best gown and slip on a comfortable dark blue wrapper. When she returned to the parlor, her mother was sitting in front of the fire, in a wide sleepy-hollow chair. She turned her head, as Polly entered the room. "Come, dear," she said; "there's room for two here." And Polly came. The motherly arm around her shoulders felt very comforting to her just then; and, like a little, tired child, she cried it all out, all the weariness and mortification and sense of failure. But while the tears were still falling, she began to laugh once more. "Oh, Jerusalem Adams!" she said; "did you ever see anything so funny as Miss Bean was about my soup?" Her mother smiled, but before she had time to reply, Polly went on tragically,-- "But wasn't it all dreadful, mamma? Seems to me I never can look any of them in the face again, Mrs. Lang and all. And just when I thought I was going to be so smart and show off all I knew!" If Aunt Jane had been there, she would doubtless have reminded Polly that pride must have a fall, and that this was a just reward for trying to outdo her friends. Mrs. Adams did no such thing, however. She only drew the curly head over against her shoulder and stroked it gently, as she said, with a half-laughing tenderness,-- "My poor little Polly! You tried to do more than you had strength for. But, after all, it's as true a side of life as Florence's successful dinner was; and every housekeeper must go through just such experiences, again and again. You are no more likely to fail the next time, because your dinner to-day wasn't a good one. It is only one of the unlucky days that we all must have." "You, mamma?" And Polly raised her head in wonder. "Yes, I've had my fair share of just such times." And Mrs. Adams laughed quietly, as she thought of similar chapters in her own housekeeping. Then she added, "But I was proud to see my little girl bear it so well, without breaking down or getting vexed at Miss Bean. That's worth a dozen elegant dinners, Polly. But now it's high time my cook was in bed and asleep, without a dream of soups or puddings or disagreeable guests who come uninvited. Some day you and I will have another dinner, and astonish the natives." A few moments later, she followed Polly upstairs to tuck the blankets around her and cuddle her, and kiss away the few tears that lay on her cheeks. Then she went back to the parlor, where she and her husband laughed heartily and long over Polly's grand dinner party. CHAPTER XIII. ALAN AND POLLY HAVE A DRESS REHEARSAL.