“Yes’m,” said Polly again; and Miss Pomeroy never suspected that those two hours on the bed had seemed like weeks to her little guest. CHAPTER VII THE FIRST MORNING Polly slept soundly that night in her little white bed, and woke to see the sun peeping in at her between the snowy curtains of her east window. “Dear me!” cried Polly. “I ought to be downstairs helping Mrs. Manser this very minute!” Then she clapped her little hands over her mouth and lay very still, remembering where she was, and that Mrs. Manser and all her old friends were nearly seven miles away, on Maple Hill. “I believe I’d better not think about them just now,” said Polly, winking fast, as she got out of bed. “Someway it makes me feel as if I wanted to swallow every minute. Maybe I can do something for Miss Arctura Green if I hurry and get dressed.” But when she stole softly downstairs, wearing the old red frock covered with one of her new white aprons, Polly stopped for a minute to look up at the tall clock. Near the clock was a high-backed chair, and as Polly heard Arctura’s voice and a strange one, she sat down in the chair to wait until Miss Green’s visitor departed. She was sitting there when Miss Pomeroy’s door opened, and down she came over the stairs. “So you’re up before me, Mary,” said the mistress of the house as she held out her hand to the little girl. Polly took the kind hand and shook it vigorously up and down as she had seen grown people do. “For she doesn’t want to kiss me, of course,” thought Polly, wistfully, remembering Mrs. Ramsdell and dear Grandma Manser. “I expect grand people like her don’t kiss little girls much.” “I thought,” said Polly, when the ceremony was over, “that maybe I could help Miss Arctura set the table for breakfast, but I heard her talking to somebody at the porch door, so I sat down here to wait.” Just then the door into the hall from the library burst open and Arctura appeared with a much vexed expression on her flushed face. “Morning, both,” she said, abruptly. “There, I knew you’d be down and waiting! ’Twas old Jane Hackett kep’ me; she’s come spying out the land already. I didn’t let her into the hall for fear she’d abide with us all day.” “S--h, Arctura!” said Miss Pomeroy, gravely, though her lips seemed inclined to twitch a little. “How is Mrs. Hackett’s rheumatism to-day?” “Thinks there’s a spell coming on, I believe,” said Arctura, looking rather crestfallen. “Breakfast’s ready, all but the griddle-cakes; I can’t sit down with you, for I’ve got them to fry.” After breakfast, Miss Pomeroy sent Polly out on the broad piazza that ran across the front of the house and the west side, to play with the kittens. “I have some plans to talk over with Arctura,” said she, “and then I want a little talk with you before I start my letter-writing. Don’t step off the piazza, for the grass is very wet. It rained in the night, and I don’t wish my guest to take cold,” said Miss Pomeroy, with her pleasant smile.