Aunt Rose."

Aunt Rose, as she preferred to be called, offered her hand to Polly, who
now stood beside the carriage. "I am so glad to see you, my dear," said
the gentle old voice, and so cordially was it said, that Polly blushed,
and smiled with delight.

She afterward told Lena Lindsey that she felt as if Aunt Rose were her
own aunt, and that she had ALWAYS known her.

The ride to the house was along an avenue shaded with huge, old elm
trees, and when they drew up at the house, Polly looked with round eyes
at its grand, old portico, its great pillars, its terraces, and masses
of lovely flowers.

Rose had said that the house was fine, but that had not told half the
beauty of the grand, old mansion.

They sprang from the carriage, and Rose begged that she might run
upstairs with Polly just a moment before lunch.

"I want to show her my room," she said, and Aunt Rose smiled, and nodded
assent.

"Oh, Polly, Princess Polly!" she said, when they reached the pretty
chamber, "it is so long since we've played together, and now--now I have
you, all to myself. See the queer bed, with the canopy over it. The
first night I came, I was afraid to sleep in it. Now, I like it, and to-
night we'll cuddle close together in it, and draw the curtains."