e face out into
the strong light; "why, it's just nothing to what she has told time and
again in the little brown house in Badgertown;" and then he caught
sight of Polly's face, which turned a little pale in the firelight as he
spoke; and the brown eyes had such a pathetic droop in them that it went
to the boy's very heart.

Was Polly homesick? and so soon!

POLLY IS COMFORTED

Yes, it must be confessed. Polly was homesick. All her imaginations of
her mother's hard work, increased by her absence, loomed up before her,
till she was almost ready to fly home without a minute's warning. At
night, when no one knew it, the tears would come racing over the poor,
forlorn little face, and would not be squeezed back. It got to be
noticed finally; and one and all redoubled their exertions to make
everything twice as pleasant as ever!

The only place, except in front of the grand piano, where Polly
approached a state of comparative happiness, was in the greenhouse.

Here she would stay, comforted and soothed among the lovely plants and
rich exotics, rejoicing the heart of Old Turner the gardener, who since
Polly's first rapturous entrance, had taken her into his good graces for
all time.

Every chance she could steal after practice hours were over, and after
the clamorous demands of the boys upon her time were fully satisfied,
was seized to fly on the wings of the wind, to the flowers.

But even with the music and flowers the dancing light in the eyes went
down a little; and Polly, growing more silent and pale, moved around
with a little droop to the small figure that had only been wont to fly
through the wide halls and spacious rooms with gay and springing step.

"Polly don't like us," at last said Van one day in despair. "Then,
dear," said Mrs. Whitney, "you must be kinder to her than ever;
think what it would be for one of you to be away from home even among
friends."

"I'd like it first rate to be away from Percy," said Van, reflectively;
"I wouldn't come back in three, no, six weeks."

"My son," said his mamma, "just stop and think how badly you would feel,
if you really couldn't see Percy."

"Well," said Van, and he showed signs of relenting a little at that;
"but Percy is perfectly awful, mamma, you don't know; and he feels so
smart too," he said vindictively.

"Well," said Mrs. Whitney, softly, "let's think what we can do for
Polly; it makes me feel very badly to see her sad little face."

"I don't