"I miss your mother, Polly," he said. "And poor, poor child! so do you. There, I can't waste another minute of my time with you now. Come to my study this evening at nine, and we will discuss the matter further." CHAPTER VI. POLLY'S RAID. Polly spent some hours of that day in a somewhat mysterious occupation. Instead of helping, as she had done lately, in quite an efficient way, with the baby, for she was a very bright child, and could be most charming and attractive to the smallest living creature when she chose, she left nurse and the little brown-eyed baby to their own devices, and took up a foraging expedition through the house. She called it her raid, and Polly's raid proved extremely disturbing to the domestic economy of the household. For instance, when Susan, the very neat housemaid, had put all the bedrooms in perfect order, and was going to her own room to change her dress and make herself tidy, it was very annoying to hear Polly, in a peremptory tone, desiring her to give her the keys of the linen-press. "For," said that young lady, "I'm going to look through the towels this morning, Susan, to see which of them want darning, and you had better stay with me, to take away those that have thin places in them." "Oh, dear me, Miss Polly," said Susan, rather pertly, "the towels is seen to in the proper rotation. You needn't be a fretting your head about 'em, miss. This ain't the morning for the linen-press, miss. It's done at its proper time and hour." "Give me the key at once, Susan, and don't answer," said Polly. "There, hold your apron--I'll throw the towels in. What a lot--I don't believe we want half as many. When I take the reins of office next week, I'll put away quite half of these towels. There can't be waste going on in the house--I won't have it, not when I housekeep, at any rate. Susan, wasn't that a little round speck of a hole in that towel? Ah, I thought so. You put it aside, Susan, you'll have to darn it this afternoon. Now then, let me see, let me see." Polly worked vigorously through the towels, holding them up to the light to discover their thin places, pinching them in parts, and feeling their texture between her finger and thumb. In the end she pronounced about a dozen unworthy of domestic service, and Susan was desired to spend her afternoon in repairing them. "I can't, then, Miss Polly," said the much injured housemaid. "It ain't neither the day nor the hour, and I haven't got one scrap of proper darning thread left." "I'll go to the village, then, and get some," said Polly. "It's only a mile away. Things can't be neglected--it isn't right. Take the towels, Susan, and let me find them mended to-morrow morning;" and the young lady tripped off with a very bright color in her cheeks, and the key of the linen-press in her pocket. Her next visit was to the kitchen regions.