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 "O Pequot Queen, your stormy voyaging's o'er. No more you'll brave the wave's and wind's discomfort. Here, nestled 'gainst a peaceful, kindly shore,  You're parlor, bedroom, bath for our Miss Comfort!"

Applause was loud and prolonged. The twins bowed repeatedly, their hands on their hearts, their eyes languishing gratitude on the appreciative audience.

"Why," exclaimed Miss Comfort, with the tone of one making a surprising discovery, "it was poetry!"

"Yes, ma'am," said Laurie defensively, "but we warned you!"

Miss Comfort looked a trifle puzzled until Polly laughingly assured her that she mustn't mind Laurie, that he was always saying silly things. Whereupon the little lady said disapprovingly: "You mustn't say that, Polly. I'm sure Mr. Laurie isn't silly. Sometimes I don't quite understand him, my dear, but I'm sure he isn't silly!"

"You're a perfect dear!" replied Polly rapturously.

Laurie had seized his cap and Mae's umbrella.