37-1 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
" Oh, yes!” cried Pollydeen, to whom every new idea 
was a possible jov, “ Mr. Smith is one of papa's very 
particularest friends, and he lives there." 
•• Then I might put you off at North Cambridge 
and you could go to Mr. Smith and ask him to take you 
home," said Helen. 
" But I don’t know what street he lives ou,” objected 
Pollydeen. 
Now HeleD and Pollydeen had not quieted down at 
all under the influence of their misadventure, and 
nearly all they said had been overheard by a pleasant- 
looking gentleman who was sitting in front of them, and 
who now turned round and offered his assistance. He 
said he was to stop at the Cambridge station, and asked 
Pollydeen what Mr. Smith she wished to find. 
" Mr. John Smith : lie’s a minister,” replied the child. 
Rev. John L. Smith?” said the gentleman. 
"Yes. sir: that’s the one.” replied Pollydeen. But 
the cars had already reached that station, and the gen¬ 
tleman took Pollydeen by the hand and told Helen he 
would take her to Mr. Smith's dcor himself, and she 
need not feel uneasy at all. But it did not occur to any 
of them that a dispatch ought to be sent to Pollydeen’s 
father, tmtil Helen got home. Then she sent a telegram 
saying that ■■ Pollydeen left the train at the North 
Cambridge station with a gentleman who promised to 
take her to Rev. John Smith.” 
Meantime Pollydeen and her new friend took a horse 
car and went in pursuit of that reverend gentleman. 
Down North Avenue they went, and through Harvard 
Square, and down into the Port to "Windsor Street, 
where they left the car and soon found themselves at 
Mr. Smith's door. The gentleman rang the bell and 
then bade Pollydeen a hasty farewell, as he had to hurry 
back to the Square to meet a business appointment 
which was already overdue. 
So there was no one to witness the rather cool be¬ 
havior of Mr. Smith toward his unexpected guest, as 
she smiled up at him and said, “ How do you do, Mr. 
Smith ? I’ve come to spend Christmas at your house. 
“Well! I’d like to know 1 ” ejaculated the astonished 
gentleman, “ Who are you, and where did you come 
from ? ” 
“Why, I'm Pollydeen: don’t you know me? I knew 
you right off, only you've grown some bigger, and I 
don’t quite remember about that mustache," she added, 
ca lml y surveying Mr. Smith from head to foot with a 
critical eye. At this moment Pollydeen’s attention was 
attracted by a sound of childish revelry from within, 
and she eagerly remarked. 
“I think ! I smell seven little hoys;’are they yours, 
Mr. Smith? I should like to play with them.” 
“Well, that’s the number, but they are partly girls !” 
laughed the minister, and, opening the door into the 
sitting-room, he led Pollydeen into the midst of seven 
little Smiths, all under eleven years of age, who 
greeted her as if she had been their long-lost sister. 
The eight were soon engaged in a game of blind-man’s- 
buff, in which Pollydeen quite outdid the seven noisy 
little Smiths in respect to noise. Mrs. Smith managed 
to get hold of her just long enough to extract an ex¬ 
planation of her unexpected visit and then went to the 
study, where she and her husband discussed Pollydeen 
thoroughly. But Mr. Smith professed himself entirely 
unable to recall any friend of his by the name of Dean, 
either at the Highlands or anywhere else. And no 
wonder! for Pollydeen and her new friend had made a 
little mistake, and Mr. Dean’s friend, Rev. John P. 
Smith, a retired clergyman, was at this time sitting 
down to his two o’clock dinner in his elegant home 
in Old Cambridge. But the Rev. John L. Smith had 
not been in Cambridgeport long enough to have heard 
of him. 
The obvious thing to be done was to take tho child 
home, but this he could not well do until the next 
morning, as his Sabbath-school, for special reasons, were 
to have their festival on Christmas Eve instead of 
Christmas evening, and he should be very busy uutil 
that was over. 
So Pollydeen romped all the afternoon with the little 
Smiths, and tore round from one end of the minister’s 
small home to the other, with the exception of the 
study, which they were not allowed to invade. They 
chased the kittens about the kitchen, and Pollydeen 
caught her dress on a nail and tore it clean across the 
front. They went to the pantry to get some bread and 
molasses, and Bessie Smith let the jug slip and a whole 
stream of the contents went into Pollydeen’s back as 
she was stooping to lift up Baby Smith. Then they all 
had to troop up-stairs to help clean Pollydeen up. 
Bessie washed the molasses out of her long curls, but as 
all the little Smiths had hair as straight as an Indian’s, 
nobody knew how to curl it again, so they braided it in 
a long thin braid, and tied it with a bit of red dress- 
braid, as ribbons were scarce in the Smith family. 
Then Pollydeen had to put on one of Bessie’s dresses, 
and as the Smiths' did not have many clothes, the dress 
was patched and faded. Pollydcen's best friends would 
not have known her!. Then the children all slid down 
the bannisters one after the other, Pollydeen last, and 
as it was new business to her, instead of jumping off 
when she reached the foot of the stairs she fell off 
head first, and smashed out her two upper front teeth ! 
They fortunately belonged to her first set, so her dis¬ 
figurement would not be lasting, but her present dis¬ 
tress rather overwhelmed the Smith family. Mrs. 
Smith said afterwards that she didn’t believe her seven, 
altogether, could have screamed so fearfully as Polly¬ 
deen did on that occasion. And she wanted her mother 
then and there, and insisted on her being produced at 
once, without regard to time, space or any other inter¬ 
fering trifles. She was only diverted by the announce¬ 
ment that it was time to go to the Christmas festival. 
Then there was such a reaching and stretching, and 
tugging and pulling, and squirming and wriggling, 
while the seven little Smiths and one Pollydeen worried 
themselves into their respective leggings, rubbers, 
cloaks, hoods, caps and mittens; and then they all set 
out under the general supervision of Mr. Smith, whose 
mind was distracted with fears lest the Christmas com¬ 
mittee might have forgotten to put something on the 
tree for widow Jones and the sick little McQuirks, and 
of Mrs. Smith, who was wondering if the kitchen win¬ 
dow had been fastened, and if she had remembered to 
close the front draft of the stove and turn off the gas in 
the nursery. Fortunately the little Smiths were ac¬ 
customed to take care of themselves while their father 
took care of his parish, and their little overworked 
mother took care of the house. 
The din and uproar of the Christmas festival reached 
their ears sometime before they reached the festival. 
Rev. Mr. Smith’s church was a large Baptist churclu 
