"Oh, won't they have a breakfast this morning," she said to herself. "Won't they open their eyes, and won't Bob and Bunny look greedy. And Firefly--I must watch Firefly over those hot cakes, or she may make herself sick. Poor father and Nell--they'll both be afraid at first that I'm a little too lavish and inclined to be extravagant, but they'll see by-and-by, and they'll acknowledge deep down in their hearts that there never was such a housekeeper as Polly." As the little maid dreamed these pleasant thoughts she scrambled somewhat untidily into her clothes, gave her hair a somewhat less careful brush than usual, and finally knelt down to say her morning prayer. Helen still slept, and Polly by a sudden impulse chose to kneel by Helen's bed and not her own. She pressed her curly head against the mattress, and eagerly whispered her petitions. She was excited and sanguine, for this was to her a moment of triumph; but as she prayed a feeling of rest and yet of longing overpowered her. "Oh, I am happy to-day," she murmured--"but oh, mother, oh, mother, I'd give everything in all the wide world to have you back again! I'd live on bread and water--I'd spend years in a garret just for you to kiss me once again, mother, mother!" Helen stirred in her sleep, for Polly's last impulsive words were spoken aloud. "Has mother come back?" she asked. Her eyes were closed, she was dreaming. Polly bent down and answered her. "No," she said. "It is only me--the most foolish of all her children, who wants her so dreadfully." Helen sighed, and turned her head uneasily, and Polly, wiping away some moisture from her eyes, ran out of the room. Her housekeeping apron was on, her precious money box was under her arm, the keys of the linen-press jingled against a thimble and a couple of pencils in the front pocket of the apron. Polly was going down stairs to fulfill her great mission; it was impossible for her spirits long to be downcast. The house was deliciously still, for only the servants were up at present, but the sun sent in some rays of brightness at the large lobby windows, and the little girl laughed aloud in her glee. "Good morning, sun! it is nice of you to smile at me the first morning of my great work. It is very good-natured of you to come instead of sending that disagreeable friend of yours, Mr. Rain. Oh, how delicious it is to be up early. Why, it is not half-past six yet--oh, what a breakfast I shall prepare for father!" In the kitchen, which was a large, cheerful apartment looking out on the vegetable garden, Polly found her satellite, Maggie, on the very tiptoe of expectation.