"Why, Polly?" said Molly, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.
"It's that horrid Mary!" responded Polly, casting herself down on the sofa with unnecessary vigor. "I don't see what we are going to do, Molly Hapgood; I've a good mind to send you right straight off home."
"You've done it before now," Molly began teasingly, but seeing the real trouble in her friend's face, she relented and asked, "What's gone wrong, Polly?"
"It hasn't gone, it's only going," answered Polly lugubriously. "It's Mary. She says mamma has been promising her a vacation for a long time, and that she's going to take it now, for it's such a good time when part of the family are away. I told her she mustn't; but she says she's going to, or else she'll go for good. I don't dare let her do that, but whatever am I going to do, Molly? She's going right off now, and you'd better go home to stay." And Polly rose and stalked tragically up and down the room, with her fingers buried in her curls.
Molly surveyed her in pity; then she rose to meet the emergency like a heroine.
"I'm not going to go home one single step, Polly," she declared.
"I'll stay here and help you through with it."
"But you'll starve, Molly," remonstrated her hostess tearfully.
"Nonsense!" responded Molly. "Now you just sit down and don't go rushing round like this, and we'll talk the matter over, and take an account of stock."
This was encouraging, and Polly felt her spirits coming up again.
"Well?" she asked, as she seated herself on the sofa once more.