"Cancer! Polly!" Miss Sterling laughed out.
"Well, I don't know what it is." Polly laughed in sympathy.
"Look here!" The little lady raised herself on her elbow and lifted her chin. "See that!"
Polly peered at the fair, pink skin.
"What? I don't see anything."
"Why, that! It's getting wabbly." Her slim forefinger pushed the flesh back and forth.
"Oh!" Polly's face brightened. "I remember! That's what Grandaunt Susie called it! She said she used to have an awful one—it hung 'way down. And she cured it! You'd never dream she had one ever!"
"Oh, yes, you can do away with such things if you have money—if you can go to a beauty-doctor!" The tone was bitter.
"No, she didn't!" hastened the eager voice. "She did it herself!"
"Of course, if you have expensive creams and all the paraphernalia—"