"Yes," answered Polly faintly, for they were all staring at her,
and she saw a mischievous twinkle come into her father's blue
eyes.

"Well, I'd like to know what fresh piece of nonsense this is,"
Aunt Jane was beginning severely, when the doctor interposed,--

"Wait a minute, Jane; don't be in such a hurry to scold. Come,
Polly, tell us what you have been doing to make yourself look like
a South Sea Islander or a Pawnee?"

Polly dropped her eyes and played with her fork for a minute; but
sulkiness was not in her nature, and after a pause, she confessed.

"Molly said buttermilk was good for freckles, so I put some on
mine, but they didn't come off. You see," she added, turning to
her mother with the certainty that she would find sympathy in that
quarter, if in no other, "the Shepard girls are coming to-day, and
Molly wanted me to go over to see them right away, and I wanted to
look as well as I can."

Polly was interrupted by a hearty laugh from the doctor, who laid
down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair, to enjoy his
merriment to the utmost.

"I think there's no doubt of their being struck by your looks,
Polly," he said at length. Then, as he saw her bite her lips to
steady them, he added kindly, "Shall I tell my little girl what I
really think about it? I don't consider the freckles themselves