yet come, and the close little room was like an oven. With
longing eyes Pollyanna looked at the two fast-closed windows--but
she did not raise them. She undressed, folded her clothes neatly,
said her prayers, blew out her candle and climbed into bed.

Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from side to
side of the hot little cot, she did not know; but it seemed to
her that it must have been hours before she finally slipped out
of bed, felt her way across the room and opened her door.

Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness save where the
moon flung a path of silver half-way across the floor from the
east dormer window. With a resolute ignoring of that fearsome
darkness to the right and to the left, Pollyanna drew a quick
breath and pattered straight into that silvery path, and on to
the window.

She had hoped, vaguely, that this window might have a screen, but
it did not. Outside, however, there was a wide world of
fairy-like beauty, and there was, too, she knew, fresh, sweet air
that would feel so good to hot cheeks and hands!

As she stepped nearer and peered longingly out, she saw something
else: she saw, only a little way below the window, the wide, flat
tin roof of Miss Polly's sun parlor built over the porte-cochere.
The sight filled her with longing. If only, now, she were out
there!

Fearfully she looked behind her. Back there, somewhere, were her
hot little room and her still hotter bed; but between her and