A QUESTION OF DUTY
Pollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly's head, many times magnified, cried joyously:
"Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly!" The next moment she skipped merrily from the room, banging the door behind her.
Miss Polly frowned, hesitated, then crossed the room majestically and opened the door; but Pollyanna was already out of sight, clattering up the attic stairs.
Half an hour later when Miss Polly, her face expressing stern duty in every line, climbed those stairs and entered Pollyanna's room, she was greeted with a burst of eager enthusiasm.
"Oh, Aunt Polly, I never saw anything so perfectly lovely and interesting in my life. I'm so glad you gave me that book to read! Why, I didn't suppose flies could carry such a lot of things on their feet, and—"
"That will do," observed Aunt Polly, with dignity. "Pollyanna, you may bring out your clothes now, and I will look them over. What are not suitable for you I shall give to the Sullivans, of course."
With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the pamphlet and turned toward the closet.
"I'm afraid you'll think they're worse than the Ladies' Aid did—and they said they were shameful," she sighed. "But there were mostly things
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