At once her mood had changed. She was Polly, and here was Uncle Dan, to be cajoled and entreated and vanquished.
"Oh, Uncle Dan!" she cried, "I thought you never were coming! I want to talk to you."
"Why, Polly!" he exclaimed, "what are you up to? You look like a fright in that thing!"
"Which means, you never would have known me," Polly declared mischievously. "That's just what I wanted. Now come in like a dear and let me talk to you. No, sit in this chair,—it's much more comfortable. Have you had your cigar?"
"Of course I have. It's nearly an hour since luncheon."
"Don't you want another?"
"Polly! What are you driving at?"
"I only wanted to make you perfectly comfortable, so that you would enjoy having a little chat with me."
She had seated herself in a low chair opposite him, where she could look
