yourself,
love, and how hot your cheeks are!"

"Cooking is hot work, and takes away the appetite," said Polly.

She was listening in agony that moment, for over Helen's head certain
stealthy steps were creeping; they were the steps of children, leaving
their snug beds, and gliding as quietly as possible in the direction of
the savory smells and the dusty ladder and the large dirty,
spidery--but oh, how romantic, how fascinating--front attic. Never
before did Polly realize how many creaky boards there were in the house;
oh, surely Helen would observe those steps; but, no, she cracked her egg
tranquilly, and sipped her tea, and talked in her pleasantest way of
Polly's excellent cooking, and of her day's adventures.

Time was going on; it would soon be eight o'clock. Oh, horrors, why
would the Rickettses and Mrs. Jones's three boys choose the path through
the shrubbery to approach the house! The morning room, where Helen was
taking her tea, looked out on the shrubbery, and although it was now
quite dark in the world of nature, those dreadful rough boys would crack
boughs, and stumble and titter as they walked. Polly's face grew hotter
and her hands colder; never did she bless her sister's rather slow and
unsuspicious nature more than at this moment, for Helen heard no boughs
crack, nor did the stealthy, smothered laughter, so distinctly audible
to poor Polly, reach her ears.

At ten minutes to eight Helen rose from the table.

"I'm going up to Nurse to show her what things I have bought for baby,"
she said. "We are going to short-coat baby next week, so I have a good
deal to show her, and I won't be down again for a little bit."

"All right," said Polly, "I have plenty to do; don't worry about me till
you see me, Nell."

She danced out of the room, and in excellent spirits joined a large and
boisterous party in the front attic. Now, she assured her family and her
guests, all would go well; they were safely housed in a distant and
unused part of the establishment, and might be as merry and as noisy as
they pleased; no one would hear them, no one would miss them, no one
would suspect them.

And all might have gone according to Polly's programme, and to this day
that glorious feast in the attic might have remained a secret in the
private annals of the house of Maybright, but for that untoward thing
which I am about to tell.

At that very moment while the Maybrights, the Rickettses, and the
Joneses were having deli