"Oh, I'd do heaps of things! I'd give some to father, first of all, because he lost all his, you know; and then I'd buy some new gowns for mother—pretty ones, like Aunt Jane's; and Roger should have more pocket-money—he gets so much less than most of the Grammar School boys; and we'd all go away by the sea for a holiday—that would be best of all! Uncle John and Aunt Janie and Edgar go to the sea-side every year, but we never do; and last year, when mother was poorly, the doctor said a thorough change would do her more real good than anything, but she couldn't have it. Father was so sorry about it; and he wanted to tell Aunt Janie what the doctor said, but mother wouldn't let him."
"Polly, can you keep a secret?" asked Cousin Becky.
"Oh yes, I am sure I can, though I never tried," was the confident response.
"Well, then I will tell you one but you must keep it quite to yourself, mind. Will you promise?"
"Yes; I won't tell anyone—not even mother."
"No, not even your mother." There was a slight flush on Cousin Becky's cheeks, and a smile hovered around her lips and shone in her eyes. "A little bird has told me that very likely—most likely, indeed—there will be a holiday for you all this year."
"What!" Polly could scarcely credit that she had heard aright. "You don't—you can't mean it!"
"Yes, I do, my dear. That's my secret. Mind you don't let it go any further. And you mustn't ask me any questions. Well, just one then."
"Are you sure the little bird you spoke of knows?" Polly inquired incredulously.
"Quite sure."