imported frocks, coupés, and rival brothers didn't exist.
"Well, Polly, do you like parties?" asked Fan, when the last guest was gone.
"Very much; but I don't think it would be good for me to go to many," answered Polly, slowly.
"Why not?"
"I shouldn't enjoy them if I didn't have a fine dress, and dance all the time, and be admired, and—all the rest of it."
"I didn't know you cared for such things," cried Fanny, surprised.
"Neither did I till to-night; but I do; and as I can't have 'em, it's lucky I'm going home to-morrow."
"Oh, dear! So you are! What shall I do without my 'sweet P.,' as Sydney calls you?" sighed Fanny, bearing Polly away to be cuddled.
Every one echoed the exclamation next day; and many loving eyes followed the little figure in the drab frock as it went quietly about, doing for the last time the small services which would help to make its absence keenly felt. Polly was to go directly after an early dinner, and having packed her trunk, all but one tray, she was told to go and take a run while grandma finished. Polly suspected that some pleasant surprise was going to be put in; for Fan didn't offer to go with her, Maud kept dodging about with something under her apron, and Tom had just whisked into his mother's room in a mysterious manner. So, Polly took the hint and went away, rejoicing in the thought of the unknown treasures she was to carry home.
