"It's too bad, and I am sorry for you, Polly; but I don't believe we any of us ever enjoyed a dinner more than we have this one."
And Mrs. Hapgood added hastily,—
"Yes, and we mothers have all been through it ourselves so many times, too."
[Illustration: ALAS FOR POLLY! SOME ONE ELSE HAD THOUGHT THE
PUDDING A SUCCESS.">[
All this was like Hebrew to Miss Bean, who was at a loss to see why they should all be administering comfort to Polly. But there could be no doubt that something was wrong, so she inquired, with an air of stony censure,—
"What is the matter, for the land sakes? If Polly can't eat what's set before her, she can go without."
That settled the question of Polly's tears, and she began to laugh hysterically, while the others joined in until the dining-room rang with their mirth.
"Well," said the doctor, as he pushed back his chair, half an hour later; "if Florence takes the prize for the best cooking, Polly ought to have the one for the best entertainment."
The guests went away early, and Polly ran upstairs to take off her best gown and slip on a comfortable dark blue wrapper. When she returned to the parlor, her mother was sitting in front of the fire, in a wide sleepy-hollow chair. She turned her head, as Polly entered the room.
"Come, dear," she said; "there's room for two here."