POLLY--THE PEW AND THE PULPIT--THE FATE OF THE FLAT IRON By the time that my father came to fetch us away, I was wonderfully improved in health and strength.

I even wanted to go back outside the coach; but this was not allowed.
I did not forget the little lady in the white beaver, even after my return to Dacrefield.

I was fond of drawing, and I made what seemed to me a rather striking portrait of her (at least as to colouring), and wore it tied by a bit of string round my neck.

It is unromantic to have to confess that it fell at last into the washhand basin, and was reduced to pulp.
I brought my farthing flat-iron home with me, and it was for long a favourite plaything.

I used to sprinkle corners of my pocket-handkerchief with water, as I had seen Nurse Bundle "damp fine things" before ironing them.