doesn't know isn't going to hurt her. You leave it to me, and don't say anything about it to Miss Comfort. I'll send this Goop guy a telegram that'll wake him up. He ain't so well in his goop. He ought to see—"
"Hello!"
That was Polly, to the accompaniment of the tinkling bell in the next room.
"Don't tell Polly!" hissed Laurie, and Polly's mother somewhat blankly nodded agreement.
"We've been talking about Miss Comfort," announced Laurie as Polly joined them.
"Oh, is there anything new, mama? Has she heard from the lawyers again?"
"Not that I know of," answered Mrs. Deane. "I haven't seen her yet. She said she'd bring over those cream-puffs and the layer-cake, but she hasn't."
"Shall I run over and ask about them?"
"N-no, I don't think you'd better, dear. I dare say she's just too upset to get things baked. I know myself how contrary ovens will act when you can't give your whole mind to them. Maybe she'll be over in a little while."
Miss Comfort remained the subject of conver-
