With trembling fingers she was draping about her aunt's shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful lace shawl, yellowed from long years of packing away, and fragrant with lavender.

Pollyanna had found the shawl the week before when Nancy had been regulating the attic; and it had occurred to her to-day that there was no reason why her aunt, as well as Mrs.White of her Western home, should not be "dressed up." Her task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that approved, but that saw yet one touch wanting.

Promptly, therefore, she pulled her aunt toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated red rose blooming on the trellis within reach of her hand.
"Pollyanna, what are you doing?
Where are you taking me to ?" recoiled Aunt Polly, vainly trying to hold herself back.

"Pollyanna, I shall not--" "It's just to the sun parlor--only a minute! I'll have you ready now quicker'n no time," panted Pollyanna, reaching for the rose and thrusting it into the soft hair above Miss Polly's left ear.

"There!" she exulted, untying the knot of the handkerchief and flinging the bit of linen far from her.