OFF FOR HOLLAND


It seemed to Polly as if she had only breathed twice, and had not
turned over once, when there was Mamsie's voice calling her, and there
was Mamsie's face looking into hers over the edge of the berth. "Wake
up, Polly, child, you have only about ten minutes to dress in."

"O dear me! what--where?" exclaimed Polly, springing to a sitting
position, thereby giving her brown head a smart thump on the ceiling of
the berth, "where are we, Mamsie? why, it is the middle of the night,
isn't it?" she cried, not stopping to pity her poor head.

"We are almost at the Hook of Holland," said Mrs. Fisher, busily
buttoning Phronsie's shoes. Phronsie sat on the lower berth, her sleepy
little legs dangling over the edge, and her sleepy little head going
nid-nodding, despite all her efforts to keep herself awake.

"O dear me!" cried Polly, remorsefully, when she saw that. "I ought to
have dressed Phronsie. Why didn't you wake me up earlier, Mamsie?"

"Because I wanted you to sleep all you could," said Mrs. Fisher, "and
now if you'll only dress Polly Pepper as quickly as possible, that's
all I ask."

"I will dress Polly Pepper in a twinkling, Mamsie," declared Polly,
laughing merrily; "O dear me, where _is_ my other stocking?" She
stuck out one black foot ready for its boot. "Is it down there,
Mamsie?" All the while she was shaking the bedclothes violently for any