Why, Aunt Polly, I'll make you so pretty everybody'll just love
to look at you!"

"Pollyanna!" gasped a stifled but shocked voice from a veil of
hair. "I--I'm sure I don't know why I'm letting you do this silly
thing."

"Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you'd be glad to have folks like
to look at you! Don't you like to look at pretty things? I'm ever
so much happier when I look at pretty folks, 'cause when I look
at the other kind I'm so sorry for them."

"But--but--"

"And I just love to do folks' hair," purred Pollyanna,
contentedly. "I did quite a lot of the Ladies' Aiders'--but there
wasn't any of them so nice as yours. Mrs. White's was pretty
nice, though, and she looked just lovely one day when I dressed
her up in--Oh, Aunt Polly, I've just happened to think of
something! But it's a secret, and I sha'n't tell. Now your hair
is almost done, and pretty quick I'm going to leave you just a
minute; and you must promise--promise--PROMISE not to stir nor
peek, even, till I come back. Now remember!" she finished, as she
ran from the room.

Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she said that of course
she should at once undo the absurd work of her niece's fingers,
and put her hair up properly again. As for "peeking" just as if
she cared how--