"Mollie is right, as Betty is almost one of our family, it is only fair
to tell her what has put Polly in her present mood. The truth is, dear,
the doctor thinks I am not very well and am needing a rest, so I am
being made to lie down every evening after my work, by my daughters, and
I am sure when warm weather comes I shall be all right again."

"You won't," Polly interrupted, "and if that is all you mean to tell
Betty, why I shall certainly tell her everything now you have started."

Polly went on quickly, with two bright spots of color in her cheeks:
"Resting in the evenings is not going to help mother; Dr. Hawkes says
she needs months and months of rest and unless she has it she will soon
be having a nervous breakdown or something else; that working for nearly
eight years in an office supporting herself and two daughters is enough
to tire any woman out. Then to-day a wonderful invitation came from my
father's relatives, who have never paid the least attention to us
before, asking mother to spend the summer with them in Ireland, and--"

Betty's hands were clapped eagerly together as she concluded, "So you
are going to accept and Polly's blue at the thought of being separated
from you, but really I can't see any reason why I should not have been
told of this."

Instead of replying, Polly frowned and Mrs. O'Neill shook her head, so
the explanation fell to Mollie. "No, mother is not going to accept;
that is what the trouble is and that is why Polly and I sometimes feel
cross with you, Betty, because rich people never seem to be able to
understand about poor ones. You do what you like without thinking of
the money, and we can't do anything we like without thinking of it.