CHAPTER IV.
THE BOARDERS STAY, AND THE OLIVERS GO.
Dr.George found Mrs.Oliver too ill to be anything but reasonable.
After a long talk about her own condition and Polly's future, she gave a somewhat tearful assent to all his plans for their welfare, and agreed to make the change when a suitable tenant was found for the house.
So Polly eased the anxiety that gnawed at her heart by incredible energy in the direction of house-cleaning; superintending all sorts of scrubbings, polishings, and renovating of carpets with the aid of an extra Chinaman, who was fresh from his native rice-fields and stupid enough to occupy any one's mind to the exclusion of other matters.
Each boarder in turn was asked to make a trip to the country on a certain day, and on his return found his room in spotless order; while all this time the tired mother lay quietly in her bed, knowing little or nothing of her daughter's superhuman efforts to be "good." But a month of rest worked wonders, and Mrs.Oliver finally became so like her usual delicate but energetic self that Polly almost forgot her fears, although she remitted none of her nursing and fond but rigid discipline.
At length something happened; and one glorious Saturday morning in October, Polly saddled Blanquita, the white mare which Bell Winship had left in Polly's care during her European trip, and galloped over to the Nobles' ranch in a breathless state of excitement.
Blanquita was happy too, for Polly had a light hand on the rein and a light seat in the saddle.

She knew there would be a long rest at the journey's end, and that, too, under a particularly shady pepper-tree; so both horse and rider were in a golden humor as they loped over the dusty road, the blue Pacific on the one hand, and the brown hills, thirsty for rain, on the other.
Polly tied Blanquita to the pepper-tree, caught her habit in one hand, and ran up the walnut-tree avenue to the Nobles' house.

There was no one in; but that was nothing unusual, since a house is chiefly useful for sleeping purposes in that lovely climate.

No one on the verandas, no one in the hammocks; after seeking for some little time she came upon Margery and her mother at work in their orange-tree sitting-room, Mrs.Noble with her mending-basket, Margery painting as usual.
The orange-tree sitting-room was merely a platform built under the trees, which in the season of blossoms shed a heavy fragrance in the warm air, and later on hung their branches of golden fruit almost into your very lap.
"Here you are!" cried Polly, plunging through the trees as she caught sight of Margery's pink dress.

"You have n't any hats to swing, so please give three rousing cheers! The house is rented and a lease signed for a year!" "That is good news, indeed!" exclaimed Mrs.Noble, laying down her needle.