"Yes," said Polly, in a brisk, decided way, "it's altogether too low.
Probably it is wet."

"Oh!" said Johnny once more. Of course he knew that it wasn't wet, but
if Polly didn't want to live there, he wouldn't say a word. Of course
not.

"Now there's a place right over there," continued Polly. "I think
we'll build our house right there."

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again
without speaking and meekly trotted after Polly Chuck to the place she
had picked out. It was in a little hollow. Johnny knew before he began
to dig that the ground was damp, almost wet. But if Polly wanted to
live there she should, and Johnny began to dig. By and by he stopped
to rest. Where was Polly? He looked this way and that way anxiously.
Just as he was getting ready to go hunt for her, she came hurrying
back.

[Illustration: If Polly wanted to live there she should]

"I've found a perfectly lovely place for our new home!" she cried.

Johnny looked ruefully at the hole he had worked so hard to dig; then
he brushed the dirt from his clothes and followed her. This time
Johnny had no fault to find with the ground. It was high and dry. But
Polly had chosen a spot close to a road that wound down across the
Green Meadows. Johnny shook his head doubtfully, but he began to dig.
This time, however, he kept one eye on Polly Chuck, and the minute he