"But goodness me, girl! If your father was as rich as all that, why would you care about wasting a doughnut? And look at your mother making her own butter and helping in housework! Anne says she even spins her own linen towels and knits your stockings. What under the sun would she work like that for, if she could afford to live better'n we do?" cried Eleanor, incredulously. "My mother doesn't _have_ to do a thing, unless she wants to. She just likes to do it for us, and it sure does make a home!" declared Polly, fondly, as she looked across the Pit to her home. "Ye-es--I guess it does; but then some mothers can't sew and spin and cook, you see, so where would the home be if we didn't have servants and folks to do for us?" sighed Eleanor, comparing her own home life to Polly's--to the latter's advantage. "What does your mother do, Nolla?" asked Polly, sympathetically. "Oh, she is a society leader, you know. She goes calling, and has bridge parties every week. Then she has her teas and dinners, and the balls, or theater parties, in season. Other times she has her clubs and Welfare Work--she is President of a Charity Work, you see, and has to address her members every once in a while," said Eleanor, warming up to her description as she visualized her mother's important life-interests. "Anne told us about how sick you were two years ago, and how you had to leave home to live in Denver all last winter," said Polly, a compassionate note creeping into her voice as she pitied the girl at her side. "Well, I got better, didn't I?" came from Eleanor, shortly; then she said tenderly: "Anne and her mother were great!" "Yes, but I was thinking if it was me--so sick that the doctors feared I would never be well again--do you s'pose _my_ mother would have stayed at home when I was with strangers in Denver? I _reckon not!_ All the butter, or balls, or charities in the world could not have kept her from my side every minute I was sick!" Such emphasis found Eleanor lacking with a reply but her eyes filled up at the thought of a love that would sacrifice the world for a beloved child. Would her mother do that if she realized any danger to her children? Ah, that is what hurt! "Polly, my father would do as much for me, too!" said Eleanor, exultantly, the moment she remembered one parent who loved her unreservedly. "So would mine." "Then why should he object to your having a good education in Denver? And look at the way he dresses you, Polly! I don't want you to think I am poking fun at you, 'cause I'm not, but the way you slick back your hair into two long braids and the baggy skirts you wear are simply outlandish. If I had that wonderful curly chestnut hair I'd make so much of it that I'd look positively beautiful." Polly felt hurt, not only because of her love of the beautiful in everything, but also because she hoped Eleanor would turn out to be a staunch friend. Now, of course, she wouldn't make friends with such an old-fashioned country girl!