preparing for their talk.

"The third time conquers," said Molly, laughing, as she saw Polly
tearing down her log cabin. "What are you going to do next, Poll?"

"Lay it yourself, if you want to," retorted Polly, showing more
heat than the fire had done.

"I never did such a thing in my life," Molly assured her. "Can't
Mary do it?"

"I don't know," said Polly, dropping back from her knees until she
sat on her heels; "anyway, she's so cross I don't dare ask her."

"What makes your mother keep her if she's so cross?" inquired
Molly, leaning forward to blow the last spark which still lingered
on the newspaper.

"Because she can't get anything else," answered Polly,
unconsciously touching the key-note of the whole servant question.

"Well," remarked Molly, after a pause, while Polly again wrestled
with the fire, "we shall catch our deaths of cold here, Polly; we
may as well go to bed, for this isn't going to burn to-night."

"I'm sorry, Molly," her hostess said penitently, as they went up-
stairs after leaving a note on the table addressed to the doctor,
and containing the simple but alarming statement: "Good night;
we've gone to bed to keep from freezing."