"Oh, Miss Sniffen, please let Miss Sterling go! That's one reason why I want it, because I think it will do her good," wheedled Polly, adding tactfully, "Father says it often makes the nerves better to get the muscles tired."
"Yes, I think that myself. Of course, it would do her no real harm, if you could manage to keep her from getting wrought up and having one of her tantrums."
"Oh, I promise you I'll bring her home as good as new!" declared
Polly recklessly. And with profuse thanks she darted softly away.
The four walked sedately down the long stairs in repressed glee, the three ladies waiting on the piazza while Polly registered their names, destination, time of starting, and expected return, in the daybook on the secretary's desk.
"Red tape all wound up!" she finally announced in a whisper, and the quartette proceeded to the corner below, to be in readiness for the car.
Juanita Sterling appeared to have lost her weak nerves somewhere on the way, as the four left the road behind them and made a path through the clover into the distance.
"I want to sit right down and enjoy it!" she exclaimed, dropping among the blossoms. "Hear that bird! It's a bobolink—it is! Oh, me! Oh, my! I haven't heard a bobolink for—I'm not going to bother to think how long. It is glorious!"
"This isn't anything compared to the woods and the brook," asserted
Polly.
She put down her lunch-basket and snipped off some clover heads.
"Those are full of honey, Miss Nita,—taste! They aren't buggy a mite."