rs.

"Coal-hole!" answered a spectral voice from the gloom above.

"Good gracious! He must have poked up the cover, climbed into the
street, stole the candy, and sneaked in at the shed-window while we were
looking for it."

"Cats got it, did n't they?" jeered the voice in a tone that made Polly
sit down and laugh till she could n't laugh any longer.

"Just give Maud a bit, she 's so disappointed. Fan and I are sick of it,
and so will you be, if you eat it all," called Polly, when she got her
breath.

"Go to bed, Maudie, and look under your pillow when you get there," was
the oracular reply that came down to them, as Tom's door closed after a
jubilant solo on the tin pan.

The girls went to bed tired out; and Maud slumbered placidly, hugging
the sticky bundle, found where molasses candy is not often discovered.
Polly was very tired, and soon fell asleep; but Fanny, who slept with
her, lay awake longer than usual, thinking about her troubles, for her
head ached, and the dissatisfaction that follows anger would not let her
rest with the tranquillity that made the rosy face in the little round
nightcap such a pleasant sight to see as it lay beside her. The gas was
turned down, but Fanny saw a figure in a gray wrapper creep by her door,
and presently return, pausing to look in. "Who is it?" she cried, so
loud that Polly woke.

"Only me, dear," answered grandma's mild voice. "Poor Tom has got a
dreadful toothache, and I came down to find some creosote for him. He
told me not to tell you; but I can't find the bottle, and don't want to
disturb mamma."

"It 's in my closet. Old Tom will pay for his trick this time," said
Fanny, in a satisfied tone.

"I thought he 'd get enough of our candy," laughed Polly; and then they
fell asleep, leaving Tom to the delights of toothache and the tender
mercies of kind old grandma.

CHAPTER III. POLLY'S TROUBLES

POLLY soon found that she was in a new world, a world where the manners
and customs were so different from the simple ways at home, that she
felt like a stranger in a strange land, and often wished that she had
not come. In the first place, she had nothing to do but lounge and
gossip, read novels, parade the streets, and dress; and before a week
was gone, she was as heartily sick of all this, as a healthy person
would be who attempted to live on confectionery. Fanny liked it, because
she was used to it, and had never known anything better; but Polly
had, and ofte