"Then tell us where she is. I'm sure you know, for she was down here a little while ago," said Fanny.
"Up in grandma's room, maybe."
"Provoking thing! you knew it all the time, and didn't tell, just to plague us," scolded Maud.
But Tom was now under water stabbing his alligator, and took no notice of the indignant departure of the young ladies.
"Polly's always poking up in grandma's room. I don't see what fun there is in it," said Fanny as they went up stairs.
"Polly's a verwy queer girl, and gwandma pets her a gweat deal more than she does me," observed Maud, with an injured air.
"Let's peek and see what they are doing," whispered Fan, pausing at the half-open door.
Grandma was sitting before a quaint old cabinet, the doors of which stood wide open, showing glimpses of the faded relics treasured there. On a stool, at the old lady's feet, sat Polly, looking up with intent face and eager eyes, quite absorbed in the history of a high-heeled brocade shoe which lay in her lap.
"Well, my dear," grandma was saying, "she had it on the very day that Uncle Joe came in as she sat at work, and said, 'Dolly, we must be married at once.' 'Very well, Joe,' says Aunt Dolly, and down she went to the parlor, where the minister was waiting, never stopping to change the dimity dress she wore, and was actually married with her scissors and pin-ball at her side, and her thimble on. That was in war times, 1812, my dear, and Uncle Joe was in the army, so he had to go, and he took
