“To make the cheeks plump up and not sag—­oh, yours look so pink!” Polly danced over to the dresser and back.

The handglass showed a face of surprise.  The thin, white cheeks had taken on a soft rose tint and—­yes, an extra fullness!

“Queer!” Miss Sterling ejaculated.  “I wouldn’t have believed it!”

“Oh, let’s try it again!  Then you get up and go to walk with me—­won’t you?”

“I can’t, Polly!  Wish I could!  But I don’t feel as if I could even stand up.  I suppose I shall have to go down to dinner.  I don’t dare not.”

“Haven’t you had any breakfast?”

“No.  Folks that can’t get up don’t need to eat.”  She laughed sadly.  “It’s well I’m not hungry.”

“But you ought—­”

“Tap! tap!”

The matron opened the door while Polly was on the way.

“Mr. Randolph is at the other end of the building and will be here presently to see about the new wing.”

Mrs. Nobbs was gone.

“Nelson Randolph!” cried Miss Sterling.  “Hand me my blue kimono, Polly, quick!  It’s right there in the closet, by the door!”

She swung her feet to the floor and caught up her stockings.

“You going to get up?”

“Of course!  Hurry!  I believe he’s coming—­no, he isn’t!  Oh, I can get this on all right!  You fix the bed!  Never mind the wrinkles—­plump up the pillows!  Yes, hang my clothes anywhere you can find room.  There!  Does my hair look all right?”

“Lovely!  That kimono is very becoming.”

“Little flatterer!”

By the time Nelson Randolph, president of the June Holiday Home, appeared in the doorway, what he saw was a well-appointed bedroom, a little blue-clad lady demurely reading a small volume, and Polly hovering near.  With a perfunctory good-morning to Miss Sterling, and a genial handshake for Dr. Dudley’s daughter, he passed with Mrs. Nobbs to the southwest corner of the apartment.  He took a glance around the ceiling, a look from the window, and some measurements with a foot-rule; then he walked briskly across the room, nodded politely, and departed.

“What a lovable man he is!” commented Polly, as the retreating footsteps told of their safe distance.

“Is he?”

“Don’t you know him?” Polly queried.

“Not very well.  Probably he doesn’t remember me at all.  He used to come to the house occasionally to see father.  That was before he was married.  I was only seventeen or eighteen.”

“I like to look at him, he is so handsome.”  Polly’s head wagged admiringly.  “I guess he’d remember you all right, only he doesn’t know you’re here.  He hasn’t been president very long, just since Mr. Macy died.  What are they going to build now?”

“I don’t know.  First I’ve heard of it.  They have more money than they know what to do with, so they’ve decided to put up an L and spoil my view,” laughed Miss Sterling.