Suddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had seen near this attic window a row of long white bags hanging from nails.  Nancy had said that they contained the winter clothing, put away for the summer.  A little fearfully now, Pollyanna felt her way to these bags, selected a nice fat soft one (it contained Miss Polly’s sealskin coat) for a bed; and a thinner one to be doubled up for a pillow, and still another (which was so thin it seemed almost empty) for a covering.  Thus equipped, Pollyanna in high glee pattered to the moonlit window again, raised the sash, stuffed her burden through to the roof below, then let herself down after it, closing the window carefully behind her—­Pollyanna had not forgotten those flies with the marvellous feet that carried things.

How deliciously cool it was!  Pollyanna quite danced up and down with delight, drawing in long, full breaths of the refreshing air.  The tin roof under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps that Pollyanna rather liked.  She walked, indeed, two or three times back and forth from end to end—­it gave her such a pleasant sensation of airy space after her hot little room; and the roof was so broad and flat that she had no fear of falling off.  Finally, with a sigh of content, she curled herself up on the sealskin-coat mattress, arranged one bag for a pillow and the other for a covering, and settled herself to sleep.

“I’m so glad now that the screens didn’t come,” she murmured, blinking up at the stars; “else I couldn’t have had this!”

Down-stairs in Miss Polly’s room next the sun parlor, Miss Polly herself was hurrying into dressing gown and slippers, her face white and frightened.  A minute before she had been telephoning in a shaking voice to Timothy: 

“Come up quick!—­you and your father.  Bring lanterns.  Somebody is on the roof of the sun parlor.  He must have climbed up the rose-trellis or somewhere, and of course he can get right into the house through the east window in the attic.  I have locked the attic door down here—­but hurry, quick!”

Some time later, Pollyanna, just dropping off to sleep, was startled by a lantern flash, and a trio of amazed ejaculations.  She opened her eyes to find Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom just getting through the window, and her aunt peering out at her from behind him.

“Pollyanna, what does this mean?” cried Aunt Polly then.

Pollyanna blinked sleepy eyes and sat up.

“Why, Mr. Tom—­Aunt Polly!” she stammered.  “Don’t look so scared!  It isn’t that I’ve got the consumption, you know, like Joel Hartley.  It’s only that I was so hot—­in there.  But I shut the window, Aunt Polly, so the flies couldn’t carry those germ-things in.”

Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder.  Old Tom, with almost equal precipitation, handed his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son.  Miss Polly bit her lip hard—­until the men were gone; then she said sternly: