Polly found her there, when they couldn't find her anywhere else, with
much searching and running about. Little old Mrs. Gray was worrying
dreadfully, so afraid she had been blown from the rocks; for the wind
had now risen, and all the travellers were seeking the shelter and
warmth of the hotel corridor and parlours.
"Oh, Adela, how _could_ you?" Polly was going to say. And then she
thought that would be the very worst thing in all the world, for
Adela's shoulders were shaking, and it would only make her cry worse.
And besides, Polly remembered how she had sometimes given way in just
this fashion, and how much worse she would have been, had it not been
for a wise, good mother. So she ran out in the hall. "I must tell her
grandmother," she said to herself.
"Have you found her?" asked Jasper, looking up from the foot of the
staircase.
"Yes," said Polly, "I have."
"All right." And Jasper vanished, and Polly went slowly back, wishing
she could be downstairs with all the dear people, instead of trying to
comfort this dismal girl. The next moment she was kneeling down by the
side of the bed, and trying to get hold of one of Adela's hands. But
Adela bounced over to the farther side, and she cried out angrily,
"It's all very well for you to say so, because you didn't do it. And
everybody likes you. O dear me--tee--hee--boo--hoo!"
"But I've often done things just as bad," confessed Polly, "and, Adela,
I've cried like this, too.
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