"Oh, of course I'll go!" and Polly's eyes shone: "that is, if Miss Lucy or Dr. Dudley don't need me for anything, and I don't suppose they will. Tell her I'll come, unless they do. Oh, and, David,"—for he had taken up the receiver again,—"ask her what time she wants me, please!"

He gave the message, and then turned back to Polly.

"She says to come as early as you can after dinner. Dear me, it will be awfully lonesome without you!"

"It will, won't it?" Polly's face sobered. "But then," she brightened, "you'll have to be home helping your mother pack up, shan't you?"

"So I shall," he returned. "And it will be a good time for you to go. Ever hear of this Dorothy before?"

"Oh, yes! Mrs. Jocelyn has told me lots about her. I guess she's nice. She's twelve."

"You'll have a fine time, and I'll try to be glad you're going," laughed David.

Polly danced off to tell Miss Lucy and Leonora of her invitation, waving a gay good-bye to David from the doorway. She had made several visits of a day to Mrs. Jocelyn, who had left the hospital some weeks before; but she had never remained overnight. And to see the Dorothy Cannon of whom she had heard so many happy things! She went upstairs on tiptoe of anticipation.

Miss Lucy was please, and Leonora tried to be. Polly saw through her forced smiles, however, and proposed all the pleasant make-ups she could think of.

"You can take care of Phebe while I'm gone, and play she's twin sister to your Juliet" (Leonora had named her doll after its donor), "and you make take the book Burton Leonard sent me. We have n't read more than half the stories in it yet."

Leonora was beaming her thanks and her delight, when Miss Lucy declared that she should depend on her to help entertain the ward, and that made her look so joyful, Polly knew there would be little lonesomeness for the lame girl.

When Dr. Dudley heard that Polly was going, he promised to carry her in his automobile, for it was a long walk to Mrs. Jocelyn's home.

"Then I shall have you to myself a little longer than the rest of the," he twinkled.

"Anybody'd think I was n't ever coming back!" laughed Polly.

"Oh, don't say so!" shivered Leonora. "Talk about what you're going to wear!"

"All right!" Polly agreed. "Miss Lucy and I have got it all planned. I shall wear my best white dress, if it is as warm as it is today, and take my white sweater with me, so I'll have it if it comes off cold. And I'm going to wear my beautiful locket and chain that Mrs. Leonard gave me, and my newest blue hair ribbon, and my best ties, and my best hat."

"Dear me," mused Dr. Dudley gravely, "I did n't know I should have to sit beside so fine a young lady as that! I wonder if I must put on my dress suit."

Polly giggled, and Leonora squealed, and they were not sobered down when they bade the Doctor good-night.

"Is n't he nice?" admired the lame girl, as they went slowly upstairs, hand in hand.

"He's the very nicest man in the whole world!" asserted Polly, and her nodding curls emphasized her praise.

Dressing came directly after dinner, and Polly had the eager assistance of every girl in the ward that was able to be about on two feet.

Angiola Cuneo fetched the pretty black ties, and Mabel Camp the long stockings. Frederica Schmelzer held the box containing the hair ribbon of delicate blue while Miss Lucy brushed the fluffy curls into smoothness. Stella Pope, greatly puffed up by the importance of her errand, went to Miss Lucy's own room, and brought back the dainty white frock, all spotless from the laundry. But Leonora's was the crowning service of all. With trembling fingers she clasped around Polly's white neck the exquisite little gold chain, with its pendent locket, which had been Mrs. Leonard's farewell gift when Burton left the hospital.

"There," she whispered delightedly, patting Polly's shoulder, "you look too sweet for anything!"

Polly dimpled and blushed, but only said:—

"I wish you were going, too!"

"Oh my!" gasped Leonora; "I should n't know how to act or what to say! I guess I'd rather stay with Miss Lucy."

The nurse, gathering up some of Polly's tossed-off belongings, smiled comfortably to herself, overhearing Leonora's words. She rarely had so much as to hint of reproof to Polly for any breach of courtesy; the child seemed instinctively to know what was due to others. She could be trusted anywhere without a fear.

The auto was waiting at the curb, Dr. Dudley and Polly were on their way from office to entrance, when there came a hurried call for the Doctor from one of his patients in a private ward.

"That's too bad!" he ejaculated. "I wish she had put off her attack an hour. Now you'll have to walk—or wait, and it is uncertain how soon I shall be at liberty."

"Oh, I don't mind walking!" smiled Polly.

"Well, here's for a good time, Thistledown!" And the Doctor kissed her on both cheeks.

She watched him up the stairs, and then went out alone.

"I wish I could have had the ride with him," she sighed, as she passed the inviting auto; "but it's a lovely day for a walk," she added. "I shall be there before I know it."

She waved her hand to Miss Lucy and the children, up at the window, who looked astonished to see her walking. Laughing at their surprise, she flourished her sweater and the little bundle containing her nightgown. Then shrubbery hid them from view. As she went by Colonel Gresham's, she wondered how soon David would be living there. Today he was at home, helping his mother, as she had predicted he might be.

A full third of the distance was passed, when, turning a corner, she met a tall woman in a brown skirt and white waist.

"Wh—", she gasped; "Aunt Jane!"

The woman gave a short laugh.

"You did n't expect to see mi; did you? Where you bound for, all rigged out so fine?"

"I'm going to Mrs. Jocelyn's," Polly answered faintly.

"What! That rich Mrs. Jocelyn?"

"I guess so."

"Where does she live?"

"Up on Edgewood Avenue."

"Yes, that's the one," nodded the other. "You are comin' on! I s'pose you don't go to see anybody but millionaires now'days! You hain't been down to my house in an age."

"Mrs. Jocelyn was at the hospital," Polly explained, "and she's invited me up to stay all night, because her cousin's coming."

"Well, I was on my way to see you and take you home with me. Glad you happened along, for it will save my climbin' that hill. Here I am slavin' myself to death, and you're kitin' off hither and yon just to have a good time. I thought you was goin' to help 'em out at the hospital."

"I do help all I can," Polly put in meekly.

"Looks like it! Well, come on! I've got a pile o' work waitin' for me at home. Much as ever I could get away anyhow."

Polly stepped forward, and the two walked along together.

"I thought you'd come over and see you new uncle, even if you did n't care anything about me and your cousins."

"My new uncle?" repeated Polly, looking puzzled.

The woman laughed. "Did n't you hear I'd got married again?" she asked.

"Why, no!" cried Polly.

"I was married three weeks ago to-day," was the proud announcement. "He's got a good job at the Silver Plate, and I'm takin' work from the button fact'ry; so we're gittin' on. We've moved over on Chestnut Street—got a flat now. The kids think it's fine."

"I'm glad, Aunt Jane," Polly managed to say, just as she reached the street which led out in the direction of Edgewood Avenue. "I have to go this way." She stepped back to allow her aunt to pass on.

"Well, I guess not much!" and the child's arm was gripped by a strong hand. "You're goin' home with me—that's what!"

"Oh, not to-day!" cried Polly, in a sudden terror. "I can't, Aunt Jane! I've promised to go up to Mrs. Jocelyn's!"

"That don't make any difference! You can go up there some other time—or you can stay away, just as I choose to have you! Now, you need n't go to cryin' and makin' a fuss!" for Polly's lip was quivering. "I guess you know me well enough to know that when I set out to do a thing I do it, and this afternoon I said I was goin' to fetch you home, and I expect to keep my word."

A wild thought of flight swept through Polly's mind; but she at once realized how futile would be an attempt to run away. Her arm was still held as in a vise, and she was being led along an unfamiliar street. Aunt Jane nodded now and then to people they met, and could quickly call any number to her assistance. Polly decided that this was no time for escape.

"Where'd you get that locket and chain?" her captor queried.

"They were a present from Mrs. Leonard."

"What Mis' Leonard?"

"I don't know, Her little boy was sick at the hospital, and I sung—"

"Oh, that one! Mis' Marvin Leonard it is. Well, they'd ought to given you some money, too—they've got enough. I read in the paper about your singin'—and faintin' away."

"In the newspaper?" Polly's face showed her astonishment.

"Sure! Did n't you know it? I should think some o' them doctors or nurses might have let you see the piece. And they'd ought to had your picture taken to go along with it."

"Oh, no!" breathed Polly shrinkingly.

"Huh! You're a great kid! Folks round here thought it was a pretty smart thing. You hain't no call to be ashamed of it."

The little girl attempted no reply. She felt that Aunt Jane would not understand.

Arrived on the fourth floor of the big tenement house, Polly was at once called upon to praise the new quarters.

"Ain't this more swell than that old-fashioned rent on Brewery Street?"

"Yes, I guess it is," was the rather doubtful response, for Poly, in her swift survey of the narrow, gaudy parlor, discerned little to admire.

"I s'pose it ain't much compared to the elegance of your millionaire friends, Aunt Jane flung out, nettled at the child's lack of approval.

"Mrs. Jocelyn' furniture is very plain—if you mean her," replied Polly gently.

"Well, come in here and put your things," leading the way to a little dim bedroom, lighted only from the apartment in front. "Better take off that white dress, and keep it clean; I'll get you one of Sophia's to wear till I can send for your clothes."

Slowly and sadly Polly laid aside her hat, and began to unbutton her dainty frock. Tears welled up in her eyes, at thoughts of Miss Lucy; but with a mighty effort she winked them back.

"There!—try that, and see how it fits."

Aunt Jane had emerged from the depths of a dark closet, and now tossed a limp calico print towards Polly.

The child could discern soiled patches on front and sleeves, and she revolted against the unclean garment; but silently she put it on.

"Well, that ain't so bad!" approved Aunt Jane. "Sophia's a whole year younger than you; but she takes a bigger waist. Stand out there—my, but it's short! Never mind! Here's a petticoat to go with it."

Polly looked down in dismay. She had thought she might perhaps steal away to the hospital, just to let the Doctor and Miss Lucy know where she was; but she could never brave the street in such a skirt.

"Now I'll go to sewin' buttons, and you can do up the dinner dishes. I left 'em, thinkin' you'd be here. This is the way to the kitchen." And presently Polly found herself in a little stuffy box of a room, with a tableful of greasy dishes before her.

"Where are the children?" she ventured.

"At school, of course,—where you ought to be. Marcus and 'Melie I left at Mis' Cobbe's. That Marcus is a terror! I shall be thankful when he goes to school. Why did n't they send you this fall? You'll be 'way back in your books."

"Dr. Dudley has made arrangements for me to go to a school near the hospital; it does n't begin till next week."

"Oh, a private school! My, if they ain't puttin' the airs on to you!"

"It's near. That's why—"

"Huh! Well, 't ain't near here. I guess you can git along with the one my kids go to."

Polly did not reply. Experience had taught her to be sparing of words with Aunt Jane. She was still toiling with the heavy crockery, when a rush of feet in the hallway announced that school was out.

The door banged wide.

"Hoh! You've got back, have you?"

"Hullo, Poll!"

"Say, what you wearin' my dress for?"

"Oh, you've got on a gold locket! Le' me see it!" Katie's fingers began pulling at the clasp.

"Oh, don't, please!" cried Polly. "I'll unfasten it for you as soon as I get the dishes done."

"I want to see it now! Mamma, shan't Polly take off her locket, and let me see it?"

"Polly, why can't you try to please you cousin, and not be so stingy with your things?"

"My hands are soapy," she apologized, "and—"

"Well, don't you know enough to wipe them?" snapped Aunt Jane. "You seem to have grown very helpless."

"Say, what are these blue stones in here?" queried Katie, turning the locket curiously.

"Turquoises," Polly answered, eyeing with fear Katie's rough handling.

"Whose picture is this?" was the next question. "Stop, you Gregory—you'll break it! Mamma, shant' he stop pulling it so?"

"Yes, Gregory, you just wait, like a good boy, till your sister's seen it; then you can take it."

Polly trembled. Her beautiful locket and chain in Gregory's dirty fingers!

"You have n't told me who this is," complained Katie.

"Burton Leonard."

"It's the kid she sung to," added the mother; "the one the paper told about."

"Oh!" cried Katie. "What big eyes he's got!" And she snapped the locket together.

"Now it's my turn!" asserted Maude, snatching the pretty thing from her sister's hand.

Gregory burst into a wail.

"Yer said I could have it next!" he lamented.

"Let him take it!" urged the mother. But Maude only clasped the chain about her own neck, and danced off to the looking-glass over the sink.

"Yer mean old thing!" screamed Gregory.

"Come get it, Greg!" Sophia darted towards her sister.

"When yer do, let me know!" jeered Maude, eluding their outstretched hands, and putting a chair between them and herself.

A short skirmish was followed by a chase around the room, until their mother interposed.

"Gracious me! What a hubbub! Maude Simpson, bring that locket to me this minute!"

"It was n't my fault at all!" whimpered Maude, taking off the chain and dropping it in her mother's lap.

"There's never no peace when you kids are in the house!" grumbled the woman, tossing aside her work, and disappearing in the next room.

"What yer done with it?" whined Gregory, as she came back with empty hands.

"I've put it where you won't find it in a hurry," she answered tartly. "Now hustle outdoors, the whole of you, and don't show your heads in here again till supper time!"

Polly drew a breath of relief, as the last Simpson vanished. She had forgotten how turbulent the children were.

When the dishes were out of the way began Polly's first lesson in sewing buttons to cards, and to Aunt Jane's delight she could soon do the work quickly and well.

"You'll be quite a help," was the commendation that brought a little solace to her sore heart. "Thank goodness, you're quieter than my own kids!"

So passed the afternoon, until came supper and the new uncle.

Polly had been helping set the table, when the door opened, and a little, thin-featured man stepped softly in.

"Polly May, I'll make you acquainted with your Uncle 'Rastus, 'Rastus Bean," called Aunt Jane from the cupboard that served for china closet and pantry.

"How do you do, my dear? How do you do?" smiled Mr. Erastus Bean, holding out his hand. "I'm very glad to see you."

Polly's little fingers had barely touched the strong, wiry ones, when Mrs. Bean's rasping voice broke in.

"Come along and wash up, 'Rastus! The water's good and hot."

Polly's hand was dropped, as if it had been of the temperature of the water.

"Yis, I'm comin' Jane! I'm comin' fas' 's I can!" The little man hurried across to the sink.

The children tumbled in, Gregory sprawling across the threshold and knocking Katie against a chair.

"Why don't yer ever look where you goin'?" fretted Sophia.

"He's always runnin' over me!" wailed Katie.

"Say, where's Marcus and 'Melie?" demanded Maude.

"Over to Mis' Cobbe's, where I hope they'll stay till after supper," answered their mother. "Her kids have been here enough, and I guess she can 'tend to mine for one meal."

"I can't go after 'em, 'cause I got to study my spellin'," announced Sophia.

"Nobody asked yer to," retorted Mrs. Bean. "They'd ought to know enough to come home alone."

The meal progressed to the accompaniment of jarring speech, and Polly was glad when it was over.

"Mamma, can we go up on the roof?" asked Katie. "The other folks are up there, and we'll keep away from the edge."

"I don't care; but, remember, the first one that goes near that rail gets a whippin'!"

The door slammed behind Maude, and Polly began to clear the table. She was taking up her old tasks as naturally as if she had never been free from them.

"Guess I'll go up myself for a few minutes," mused Mrs. Bean. "'Rastus, you go fetch Marcus and 'Melie home! Marcus 'u'd have a fit if we went up on the roof without him. And, Polly, you can put 'Melie to bed, and do up the dishes, and then come on up, if you want to. 'Rastus!"

The little man halted in the doorway.

"What, Jane?"

"Split up some kindlin's when you git back, and you may as well fix the fire for mornin'—it must be about out now."

The dishes were nearly washed when the children were brought in; and the boy had departed for the roof, and his small sister was in bed, by the time the new uncle had finished his chores.

"I'll put them plates up in the cupboard," volunteered the little man. "Set ri' down and rest."

But Polly helped, until the last dish was in place and the pan hung up on its mail. Then she dropped wearily into a chair.

"That Maude ought to have wiped 'em for yer," he sympathized. "But them kids!" He wagged his head soberly. "I'd ruther stan' at the bench, down to the shop, all day long, than be round with such actin' mortals. Jane, she can manage 'em if she sets out; but 'most gen'ally she don't set out. Wisht I could do somethin' for yer," we proffered. "Ye're all tuckered out!"

"Oh, I'm just a little tired—that's all!" smiled Polly. "You are ever so good! I wanted to go up to the hospital, and tell them where I am—they don't know, and I'm afraid they'll worry! But I guess I can't to-night," she ended sadly.

"Why, I can run up there for yer, jus' 's well 's not," he nodded.

"Oh! Will you?" she brightened. "I'll be so glad! But won't it be too much trouble?"

"Not a bit!" he returned glibly. Then his pinched face shaded. "If I can git back before she comes down," he hesitated, wavering between kindness and fear. "I guess I can," he decided, and put on this hat.

"If Dr. Dudley is n't there," Polly told him, "please ask for Miss Lucy Price. She'll do just as well. She's the nurse in our ward."

"I'll do it up all straight," he exulted, stepping briskly with the importance of his errand. But as his hand touched the knob, another's was before it. His wife opened the door.

"Where you goin', 'Rastus Bean?" she demanded.

"I—I was just goin' out for a little walk," he faltered.

"A walk!" she snapped. "If you've got your chores done, you'd better walk into bed!"

Without a word he disappeared in an adjoining room, while his wife lifted the stove cover, to see if his tasks had been faithfully performed.

Polly's forlorn hope vanished with the little man; but no tears came until she was on her pillow, shut from all eyes. Then they gushed forth in a flood.



Chapter XIII

The Return

Polly was awakened early by clashing talk. The girls, whose room she shared, were in a wrangle over her pretty, blue hair ribbon.

Sophia had spied it first, and was slyly using it for her own straight locks, when Maude had snatched it away, and a hubbub followed.

The owner of it did not interfere, but began to dress, as if she had no interest in the cause of the quarrel.

"She's more stuck-up 'n she used to be!" Polly overheard Maude sneer, as she hurried away in response to her aunt's call.

Mr. Bean wass already eating breakfast, and he greeted the little girl pleasantly, though keeping watch of his wife, who was frying cakes.

"Here! Give these to you uncle," Polly was bidden; whereupon the little man began such attempts at kindliness as to draw out a contemptuous, "Huh!" from over the griddle. After that he fastened his eyes on his plate, and ate in silence.

By the time the elder children were off for school, and the younger had departed to a neighboring tenement, Polly's early tasks were completed, and she sat down again to the button-sewing.

The little kitchen was very still, and Polly's thoughts sped back to the big house on the hill. She wondered how long it would be before she should see Dr. Dudley and Miss Lucy. Were they worrying about her and trying to find her? She could only guess.

"I b'lieve I'll run up and get that ginger-bread receipt of Mis' Moore's." The nasal voice broke in rudely upon the wondering.

Mrs. Bean shook the threads from her apron, and turned towards the door.

"If the kids come in and want something to eat, before I get back," she halted to say, "there's cookies in that little stone pot in the cupboard. Don't let 'em have but two apiece."

Wild thoughts, entirely foreign to Aunt Jane's directions, were flashing through Polly's mind.

If only there were time! She could try it! She must let Dr. Dudley and the others know!

"I shan't be gone long," her aunt was saying. "You stick to your work!"

Polly waited only to hear her walk the length of the hall above, and a door open and shut. The she cautiously stole out, and down the stairs, three long flights. Not more than a block away she had noticed a grocery. Groceries have telephones. She would run down there, and call up the hospital! At the outer door she paused an instant for one troubled look at her short skirt; but time was precious, and quickly she was speeding down the sidewalk.

"Hoh! Look at her!" jeered a big boy from across the street.

She did not even glance his way.

"Have you a telephone?" was her breathless inquiry of a man at the entrance of the little shop.

A jerk of his fat thumb towards the dim interior was his only answer.

"Please, may I use it?"

He nodded indifferently, and then she was hurrying in the direction indicated.

The instrument was on the wall, and Polly on tiptoe could not reach the mouthpiece. Looking around for a possible foot-stool, she spied a small box, which might have been used before for a similar service, and pulling it into position she found that it brought her to the proper height. With a trembling hand she lifted the receiver from its hook. She was familiar with the hospital number, and gave it without hesitation.

"Put in your nickel!" came distinctly to her ear.

Polly started in dismay. This was a pay station!

"I—have n't any!" she faltered pathetically, and the merciless snap of the wire told her that her last hope had been cut off.

She pushed the box back where she had found it, and walked slowly out of the shop. Her feet still lagged when she turned towards the tenement. What mattered it if Aunt Jane should return and find her absent? What mattered anything now? Then came a sudden daring temptation. The road was free—and she was there! Why not keep on to the hospital? She looked down—her skirts were inches above her knees! If only Aunt Jane had not insisted that she wear Sophia's petticoats, to match the length of the borrowed dress! Could she brave the crowded streets in such attire? One thought of those she loved best brought instant decision. She could dare anything for their sakes. With a shrinking, fast-beating heart. She turned, and went quickly forward.

She had not gone far, when ahead, whirling towards her, seemed a familiar object. Could it be? There were other dark green automobiles—but it was!—it was Dr. Dudley!

Polly dashed into the road,—perilously near the track of the approaching car,—wildly waving her hands. It stopped almost at her feet, and then she was in Dr. Dudley's arms.

For a moment she could only sob out her joy.

"Where have you been, Polly, child? We were all so worried—"

"I knew you would be! I knew it! But Aunt Jane made me come! She held me tight and I could n't get away! Mr. Bean was going to tell you last night; but she would n't let him—she sent him to bed! And I tried to telephone to you just now, and I had n't any five cents—oh, dear!"

"Poor little girl!" and the Doctor's voice was very tender.

His eyes passed beyond the curly head to the curb, where a knot of men and boys regarded them curiously.

"Where is the telephone, Polly?" he asked.

"Up there, in the little grocery store." Her hand showed the direction.

He swung her gently into the auto, stepped in beside her, and steered slowly towards the conspicuous sign.

"I'll be back in a minute," he told her and disappeared between the shelves of fruit and vegetables.

Polly's eyes followed him lovingly. Presently he was beside her again.

"I wanted to let them know that you are safe," he smiled. "Now we will see that Aunt Jane."

They went up the long stairs, Polly in advance. Her aunt heard her, and opened the kitchen door.

"Where in the world—" she began sharply, but stopped at sight of the tall man.

"I did n't know anybody was with you," she muttered; and then recognized Dr. Dudley.

"I've had quite a hunt for you," he remarked. "You have moved recently."

"Yes," she assented, "when I was married; this is nearer his ship. I s'pose you're after Polly," she added; "but I've made up my mind not to let her stay at the hospital any longer. I need her at home."

"You will allow her to come to us for a day," he smiled, in a tone that admitted of no refusal.

"Ain't no need of her goin' back," she fretted; "I can send for her things."

"I'll agree to bring her luggage, when she comes for good," the Doctor returned pleasantly' "but we want her for another day or two, at the least. Polly, run and get ready! I shall be due at the hospital before long."

In the little dim bedroom the eager fingers made quick work with the buttons. This was what Polly had not dared hope for, a day or two more with those she loved! Presently she was back in her pretty dress and shoes, and was fastening on her hat before the little cracked mirror. OH, her locket! She had come near forgetting it.

"Please, Aunt Jane, can I have my locket and chain?" she asked, facing the somewhat disturbed woman.

"There's not call for you to wear it today," was the sullen reply.

"Oh, but I'd like it, please, if you don't mind!" Polly insisted, gaining courage from Dr. Dudley's presence.

With a toss of her head, Mrs. Bean stalked into the next room. The moments passed. Still she did not return. When she did appear, she looked actually troubled.

"That Gregory must have got hold of it, and gone and hid it away, or something!" she worried. "I've hunted high and low, but 't ain't anywhere! Now you need n't go to bein' scared, Polly!" for the little girl's face plainly showed her distress. "I guess you can stand it if you don't have on any geegaws to-day! I'll get it fast enough when that kid comes home from school. But, oh, he's a terror, Gregory is!"

They went downstairs, Polly clinging to the Doctor's hand, as if she feared that even now something might separate her from him. In the auto, however, she settled back restfully in her seat. It was so unspeakably good to feel a loving protector close beside.

Dr. Dudley made quick time on the return trip to the hospital, and David was waiting for them by the stepping-stone.

"Hullo!" cried Polly blithely.

"Hullo!" he responded; adding, "Oh! What made you give us such a scare?"

"I could n't help it; truly I could n't!" she replied.

"Well, I'm glad you're back again!" David declared fervently, insisting on carrying her bundle and her little white sweater.

"Better run up to the ward, and let them have a sight of you," the Doctor advised. "Did you tell your uncle?" turning to the lad.

"Yes, sir. And I called up Mrs. Jocelyn, too; but she said she had just heard from you."

Polly's eyes grew wide and grave. Had her friends all been worrying like this?

Dr. Dudley glanced at his watch. "I shall be busy until noon," he said; "but, Polly, I wish you would come down directly after dinner. I want to talk with you."

She went upstairs wondering if the "talk" were to be about going back to Aunt Jane's. She had not reached any conclusion when the sight of Miss Lucy and Leonora put the troublesome matter from their mind.

"My precious!" breathed Miss Lucy in her ear.

"Oh, you darling Polly!" squealed the little lame girl, with a frantic hug. "We thought you must be kid—kid—kid'aped, or whatever 't is!" she ended desperately.

"I was—by Aunt Jane," laughed Polly; "but Dr. Dudley rescued me."

"Maybe he would n't, if it had n't been for Colonel Gresham," returned Leonora, with a shake of her head, as the other children jostled her carelessly, in their eagerness to be at the front.

"What did the Colonel do?" queried Polly wonderingly' but the rest claimed her, and the answer had to wait.

"You've lost your locket!" cried Stella Pope. "Did you know it?"

"It is n't los exactly," Polly explained, instinctively shielding the guilty lad as much as possible in her brief narration of facts.

"Aw, what a kid!" sniffed Johnny Ryan.

"The horrid boy!" worried Mabel Camp. "What if they don't ever find it!"

"Where's yer hair ribbon?" asked Frederica, feeling responsible for the safety of that bit of dainty blue, since she had aided in its first use.

Again Polly stood in defense.

"My cousin Maude wore it to school, and she had n't come home when I left."

"What made yer let her?" mourned Frederica. "Bet yer I would n't!"

"Come, Polly, and change your dress," interposed Miss Lucy, guessing somewhat of the truth from the little girl's reddening cheeks and hesitating voice.

In the dressing-room, behind the closed door, the nurse took Polly in her arms.

"It is so good to have you back again," she told her, with kisses for emphasis.

The words stabbed the child's heart. The time was to be so short! Still Polly would not spoil to-day with to-morrow's nor next day's troubles, and she summoned brave smiles and gay responses, until she half forgot the dreary fourth-floor flat where she had passed the night.

Leonora caught an early chance to draw Polly away to a corner where they could talk—or where she could, for she was bubbling with excitement over the untold story of last night's doings.

"My! I thought we'd go crazy when Mrs. Jocelyn telephoned to know why you did n't come! There you'd had time to get to her house over 'n' over again! Dr. Dudley just left ev'rything and went off in his auto, and hunted and hunted, and you was n't anywhere! The he told the police, and they went to lookin'!"

"The police!" repeated Polly, big-eyed with astonishment.

"Yes; but they could n't find you. Miss Lucy 'most cried, and Dr. Dudley looked so sober I did n't dare speak to him. OH, it was awful! We was sure you'd been kid—" Leonora hesitated, as before.

"Kidnaped," prompted Polly.

"Oh, yes, kidnapped! I never can remember how it goes. Well, David said he knew you had been, and Miss Lucy kep' saying, 'Oh, no! it can't be!' But she looked as if she'd sink when she said it."

"And what was it about Colonel Gresham?" Polly asked. "You said —"

"Yes," Leonora hurried on, "I'm comin' to it! We never any of us thought of your Aunt Jane, till Colonel Gresham he said had n't you gone to see her. Dr. Dudley told him of course you wouln n't, when you' started for Mrs. Jocelyn's, and the Colonel he said he should try her anyway. So Dr. Dudley jumped right into his auto and raced off to where you aunt used to live. When she was n't there, and the folks did n't know where she'd gone, and her name was n't in the directory at any new place, he did n't know what to do!"

"She's married Mr. Bean," Poly put in, "so she'd Mrs. Bean now."

"Oh, maybe that's why he could n't find her! Well, he come home, and he and Miss Lucy talked and talked, and High Price she talked, too, and—"

"High Price!" Poly broke out.

"Yes, she felt awful about you bein' lost—my! I guess we all did! You don't know! I did n't want to go to bed, and Miss Lucy let me sit up, hoping we'd hear something; but finally I had to, 'cause there was a woman sick, and the Doctor had to stop huntin' for you, and go and 'tend to her, and David went home, for there was n't anybody any more to telephone to. This morning Dr. Dudley he said he was going to find your Aunt Jane if she was in this city, and the next thing we knew David come rushin' in, and sayin' you was safe and sound—the Doctor had telephoned to him. My! How glad we were! I never wanted to dance so much in all my life! Say, why did n't you send word where you was?"

"I could n't." And Polly related something of her unhappy stay in the house on Chestnut Street.

She had not finished when David called up to know if Polly and Leonora could be spared. He was alone in the office, and wanted them.

The lad was eager for Polly's story, and much of it had to be retold. Then he disclosed news of his own.

"We're going to move up to Uncle David's the first of next week. Won't that be jolly? You can come over any time; it is so near."

Leonora beamed her pleasure. Polly pushed back the tears.

David's face shaded with sudden dismay.

"You have n't got to go back to your Aunt Jane's?" he demanded fiercely.

Polly's head gave the answer. At the moment speech seemed impossible.

"You shall not!" he burst out. "If Dr. Dudley lets you go and live with those—those heathen, I'll never speak to him again as long as I live!"

"Why, David Collins!" Polly's gentle voice was grieved and full of astonishment.

The pale, blue-eyed lad seemed to have vanished, and another to be standing there before her. His eyes, grown suddenly dark, set in that flaming face, gave him a most unnatural look.

"I shall have to go—Aunt Jane says I must," she went on sadly. "There's no other way."

"There would be another way, if I was a man!" he raged. "Oh, oh! I wish I were! I wish I were!" he cried passionately; and throwing himself upon the couch, face downward, his shoulders shook with sobs.

Leonora bent her head on her arm, and wept silently.

Polly was endeavoring to soothe them both when Dr. Dudley came in.

Learning the cause of the tears, he remonstrated in his humorous way, until Leonora smiled again; but David scorned such comfort, refusing to move or to speak. Finally the Doctor started to prepare the medicine he had come for, and the girls went upstairs, Polly renewing to return directly after the noon meal.



Chapter XIV

Polly's "Anne Sisters"

Dr. Dudley's office was without an occupant when Polly peeped in. The Doctor had not returned from dinner, and David had gone home for the rest of the day. The little girl wandered about the room, too full of vague dread to care for books, or even for the fine collection of sea shells, which usually she never tired of. They had been brought home from foreign shores by an old uncle of the physician's, and now, ranged on their wide shelves, they gleamed out from a farther corner of the office in all the delicate tints of their wonderful family.

But to-day Polly passed them by with only a sigh, remembering the happy times that she and David and Leonora had had in their close company, now playing that they were mermaids, come to tell them strange tales of the under-seas, now holding them to their ears, to catch the mysterious, fascinating songs of the ocean which they were always singing.

"Here already?" broke in the Doctor's pleasant voice. "I don't believe they gave you much of a dinner."

"Yes, it was good; but I was n't hungry this noon," Polly replied, with a wan little smile.

"You were in such a hurry to come down and see me that it took away your appetite—was that it?" he laughed.

"I don't know," was the sober answer.

The Doctor glanced furtively at her face, and grew grave at once. He squared some books and magazines upon the table, and then sat down in his lounging-chair, pulling Polly to his knee.

"I want to know more about that Aunt Jane of yours," he began. "Was you mother her sister, or—"

"Oh, no, she was n't!" Polly interrupted. "Mamma was an only child, just like me."

"And your father—did he have brothers or sisters?"

"I don't know," she answered slowly.

"He died when I was three years old. I can only just remember him."

"Do you recollect what Aunt Jane's name was before she married? Was it May?"

Polly shook her head doubtfully. "I can't seem to think," she mused. "Oh! I guess it was Carter, 'cause she's always saying that Maude is clear Carter, just like her folds, and Marcus is all Simpson, like Uncle Gregory."

"What was you mother's maiden name, her name when she was a girl?" the Doctor next questioned.

"Phebe Illingworth. Grandma Illingworth was her mother. She lived with us. She died the year before mamma did."

"Thistledown," went on the Doctor, "some of my questions may sound rude, but it is important that I know a little more than I ever have known of your family history. I think you told me that your mother gave piano lessons."

"Yes, and grandma gave lessons on the violin and guitar, and singing lessons too."

"And what became of the piano and other musical instruments?" asked the Doctor quickly.

"I think Aunt Jane sold them. She sold 'most everything. Some of the furniture she's got now."

"Was it nice furniture?"

"I think it was lovely. There was a beautiful sideboard—that was grandma's—with carved birds on it, and the wood was light brown—kind of yellowish—and so pretty!"

"Was that sold?"

Polly nodded sadly.

"Did you mother ever go to the bank, do you remember?"

"Oh, yes, she did! She used to carry a little book."

"Did you always have plenty of money to use—for food and clothes and so on?"

"I guess so. We had nice things to eat, and pretty things to wear."

"You never heard of any will, I suppose?"

The curls shook slowly.

"Your mother was not sick long, was she?" the Doctor asked gently.

"She was never sick. She was giving a music lesson, one afternoon, and she fainted away—they could n't make her live." The sorrowful voice softened almost to a whisper, and the golden head drooped to Dr. Dudley's shoulder.

He touched his lips to the white forehead, and tightened his clasp of the slender little form.

"I am sorry enough to have to bring all this back," he said; "but, Thistledown, I must discover a way, if possible, to keep you from that woman. I want to find out just how much legal right she has in regard to you. If we could only obtain sufficient evidence to prove that she is not a proper person to care for you —"

Polly had suddenly sat up straight, her eyes round with the startling, beautiful thought.

"Do you mean," she broke in excitedly, "that I should n't have to go back to Aunt Jane?"

The Doctor bowed. "But—" he began.

"Oh, then I can stay with you!" she burst out. "She is n't proper, she is n't nice, she is n't—anything!"

"I know, my dear!" smiled the Doctor. "But such things are hard to prove. I shall keep you, Thistledown, just as long as the law will let me; but the law must be obeyed, and we can't tell how things will come out."

"Won't I have to go back to-morrow?" she asked eagerly.

"No, indeed," he assured her. "Were you dreading that? Don't be afraid, Thistledown! Keep up a stout heart! You shall stay here for the present anyway." He looked at his watch. "I think I'll find Jack at home now," he said; and, letting Polly slip to her feet, he placed her in his chair and crossed over to the telephone.

Polly listened breathlessly. She knew that "Jack" must mean only Jack Brewster, a lawyer of the city, who had been a college classmate of the Doctor's. The two were close friends.

"That you, Jack?" Polly heard. "Yes. I want to see you professionally, as soon as possible. No," laughing; "but it is important. Can you come up this evening? All right. Good-bye."

"Jack Brewster will do his best for us," the Doctor said, coming back. "He says he will be here at seven or a little after. I think it probably that he will wish to ask you a few questions; but you won't be afraid of him. He is one of the gentlest men I ever knew—and the strongest," he added.

"I am not afraid of anybody that is your friend," returned Polly.

The Doctor smiled. "A very pretty compliment!" he told her; but she gave his praise scant notice.

"I wonder," she said, "if you would like to see the little book mama wrote about my Anne sisters."

"You what?" he queried.

"My Anne sisters."

Only his twinkling eyes disclosed his amusement. "Ancestors you mean, don't you?" he corrected gently.

"Maybe," doubtfully; "but there are lots of Annes in it that are related to me."

"Where is the book?"

"Right upstairs, in 'Under the Lilacs.' Don't you remember, you went down to Aunt Jane's, and got some of my books when I was able to sit up?"

"I recollect," he nodded.

"Well, that was why I sent for this one 'specially, because I knew it had the little book init, and mamma told me always to keep it. So I thought I'd better have it with me."

"Run up and get it, child! It may be—" Polly was gone.

It was indeed a very little book that she put in the Doctor's hand, simply a few sheets of small note paper sewed together.

"It has about the Illingworth family in one part, and about the May folds in the other," Polly explained; but it is to be doubted if Dr. Dudley heard her, so eagerly was he scanning those lists of names. He clutched at one forlorn thread of hope, and as he read, the feeble thread waxed into a cord of strength.

"Polly—" he began brightly, and then stopped. After all he could not be sure, and he must not raise happy anticipations only to see them blasted. His face shaded, and he finished the sentence quite differently from what he had intended. He went on gravely, "Did the Simpsons take charge of everything after your mother went? Was nobody else there?"

"Not to stay, except Mrs. Brooks, who lived downstairs. She was n't there much. I guess Aunt Jane did n't want her."

"Probably not," remarked the Doctor grimly.

"Is the book any good?" she asked wistfully.

Again he was tempted to tell her, and again he restrained himself.

"I think it will be of use to us," he replied.

"Did you see all the Annes?" she queried. "Are n't there a lot of them?"

He nodded laughingly. "It is a good name and I have discovered yours among them."

"Did n't you know it before? It is Marry Anne, after my great-aunt Mary Anne Illingworth. I don't like it so well as Polly."

"Or Thistledown," he added gaily. His spirits had risen wonderfully since seeing the little book.

The sudden change had its effect on Polly, and when she went upstairs it was with something of her accustomed blitheness.

The afternoon passed pleasantly, but after supper the little girl grew unaccountably nervous. She started at every ring of the telephone, and gave queer, absent-minded answers to Leonora's questions. Finally Miss Lucy, comprehending the situation, proposed a game; but Polly, usually the quickest of the children, allowed the others to eclipse her, while her ears were strained for the expected summons. At last, when the message came, she started downstairs with a fluttering heart, her nerves a-quiver with irrational fear.

At any other time she would have been pleased at the thought of meeting Dr. Dudley's friend of whom she had heard so many delightful things; but now a vague terror possessed her, lest he, being a part of that awful law,—which to her was only a name of dread,—might send her directly back to Aunt Jane's.

Polly rarely had a fall, so light and sure of foot was she; but at the top of the flight she stumbled and came near going headlong. This, turning her thoughts suddenly into another path, seemed somewhat to steady her quaking nerves, and when she reached the office door she was ready to smile a brave, though shy, greeting to the lawyer.

Jack Brewster was in appearance the opposite of Dr. Dudley. The physician was tall and broad-shouldered, with no surplus flesh; yet none would have called him thin. The lawyer was slight almost as a boy, of fair complexion, with an abundance of wavy brown hair, and eyes that had a habit of shining as if their owner had just received a bit of good news. They shone now, as he took one of Polly's little hands in both his own, and told her how glad he was to make her acquaintance.

"I have n't any little girl at my house," he went on smilingly, "but there's a boy who makes things pretty lively. When I started to come away this evening he hugged my leg, and kept saying, 'No sir-ee-sir! No sir-ee-sir!' till I finally had to go back and tell him his usual bedtime story."

"How old is he?" asked Polly, her fears quite forgotten.

"He will be two years, the third of next month. Bob," whirling around to the Doctor, "why have n't you brought Miss Polly out to see us? I'm ashamed of you!"

The physician laughed. "I am not very neighborly, I'll admit," he returned. "Sick people have crowded out the well ones lately. I know well folks will keep."

"Then the only way for me to get hold of you is to feign a chill or a fever or a broken leg—all right! Thank you for the cue! And now, Miss Polly," he went on cheerily, "I want you hones opinion of that aunt of yours. Tell me, please, just how she makes you feel."

"Wh-y," hesitated the surprised little girl, "if I should say right out, I'm afraid it would n't sound very polite or—"

"Don't think anything about politeness just now, please. Open your heart frankly, and let me see what is there in regard to her. Don't be afraid to say exactly what you think. It may help me very much. I want to be able to look at her through your clear eyes."

A shadow darkened the fair little face, and pain crept in, and stayed.

"She seems," Polly began slowly, "like a dreadful dream—you know, when you wake up all shivery, and are so glad it is n't real. Only"—with a little catch—"Aunt Jane is real! Sometimes I feel sick all over when I think about her, and going back there—oh," she burst out passionately, "I'd rather die than go back to live with her! Mr. Brewster, don't make me go! Please don't make me go!" The words came with a half sob, but she fought the tears back, and her appealing eyes searched his face for hope.

"My dear child," he exclaimed tenderly, "you must not worry one bit more about this! You have given me exactly what I want. Now leave the matter with Dr. Dudley and me. Will you agree to do this?"

"If I can," she answered softly; "but Aunt Jane is very hard to forget!"

"I dare say she is," smiled the lawyer; "but I think you can do it. You know the best way to forget a disagreeable thing?"

No, Polly did not.

"It is to keep thinking of other things, pleasant things, until the mind is so full of them that there is n't a scrap of room for whatever is annoying. You try it, and see if I am not right!"

"There are lots of pleasant things to think of," smiled Polly.

"To be sure there are! One is, that Dr. Dudley is going to bring you out to my house some morning to stay all day."

"Oh," beamed Polly, "that would be nice!" She looked across at the Doctor.

He nodded happily.

"If he does n't do it," and the lawyer made a comical grimace in Dr. Dudley's direction, "I'll come after you myself."

Polly gurgled out her little laugh, which sounded as if she had already begun to follow the lawyer's advice, and she thanked him very sweetly for his invitation and his promise. Presently she went upstairs, and Miss Lucy was relieved to see that she appeared more like her usual self. But she was very quiet, repeating nothing of what had passed in the office. It had been a hard day, and Polly was glad when the time came for her to creep into bed.

On Saturday Miss Lucy and her small assistant had a busy morning. There was scant time to think about Aunt Jane. When she did appear in Polly's mind, the little girl remembered Mr. Brewster's counsel, and hastened to perform her task in hand with exceeding faithfulness, putting on fresh pillows slips with as much care as if the welfare of the ward depended on their being straight to a thread. Her efforts were successful, for they pushed away Aunt Jane. So the forenoon passed, leaving her at dinner time a little more tired than usual, but free from the worry of the day before.

Soon after the meal Miss Lucy went downstairs. When she came back Polly was playing Authors with Leonora, Mabel, Frederica, and Stella. She stopped beside Polly's chair.

"Dr. Dudley wants you," she smiled. "Run right along, and I will take your place."

Polly went, wondering, but fearing little. Miss Lucy's face was too radiant to betoken anything unpleasant.

Dr. Dudley held out his arms, and the little girl ran into them.

"Glorious news, Thistledown! It is all settled! 'Aunt Jane' has no right to you whatever!"

"Oh!" she gasped, and went suddenly white.

The Doctor dropped into a chair, and took her in his lap, letting her lean against him.

"I'm glad you are going to school next week," he declared. "You will get out of doors more. I'm not going to have you paling up in this way every little while. You are in the house too much."

"I'm all right," she argued. "Tell me about it, please!"

"To begin with," he smiled, "these people are no relatives of yours."

Polly's eyes rounded with amazement.

"And Aunt Jane is n't my aunt at all?"

"Not the least mite of an aunt," he laughed. "It was a hard thing for her to admit; but she had to do it."

"You have seen her?" queried Polly.

"Mr. Brewster and I were there this forenoon. It seems that she lived next door to you at the time your father died, and, according to her own statement, she gave you mother a great deal of assistance at that time. It is easy to see how she made your mother feel under obligations to her, and the rest came about as it naturally might with such a woman. When she saw her chance for gain she improved it. She has defrauded you out of household goods and money; but Jack thinks we should hardly make anything by taking the matter into court. There is nearly two thousand dollars still to your credit in the bank, and that shall stay there till you are of age. She was allowed only a certain sum per week for your support—the rest she could not touch; but she did what she pleased, it seems, with the money received for furniture and so on. She has no property that we can get hold of, except the things which belonged to your mother. Those we can take, if you will tell me what they are."

"Oh! Can I have mamma's little rosewood work-table! I saw it there the other day."

The Doctor was busy with pad and pencil.

"The sooner we get them the better, so think hard now, and I'll note them down."

"There's a good deal of china, and some nice glass dishes, and the silver spoons and forks—I could tell which they were if I could see them."

"You are going to pick them out, with Mr. Brewster and me."

"I'm going there?" Polly cried.

Dr. Dudley nodded. "You're not afraid?" He smiled reassuringly.

"Oh, no, not with you!" she replied. "There's two trunks," she went on, "with some of mamma's clothes in. A good many are worn out—she wore 'em, and make 'em over for the girls and me. Then there are all our books, and three or four chairs, and a lovely clock—oh, and a great pile of mamma's music, with some pieces that she wrote herself!"

The list was longer than Dr. Dudley had expected. When Polly could think of nothing more, he called up the lawyer by telephone, making an appointment to meet him. Shortly afterwards he put Polly in the auto, and they started for Mrs. Bean's.

On the way the little girl thought of her precious locket.

"We shall get it if we can," the Doctor told her. "Mrs. Bean appears to be honest about that. She believes the boy has it; but he professes innocence. I fancy she will keep him out of our way if possible."

They took the lawyer in at his office, and Polly finished her ride sitting on his knee.

When Mrs. Bean learned their errand, she turned, then white, and seemed greatly excited. At first she was inclined to resent their coming as an intrusion, declaring, "There ain't much belongin' to the kid anyhow." But, as earlier in the day, she quailed before Mr. Brewster's firm, quiet speech, and sullenly led the way to the various articles called for. Finally nothing remained unchecked on the list except the two trunks.

"I h'ain't got no trunks," the woman bristled. "You've seen my rooms an' all there is in 'em! Them trunks prob'ly was sold along with other things."

"Why, Aunt Jane," put in Polly, "they were here just before I was hurt. I remember, because—"

"Huh!" she cackled. "I was n't here then, an' I guess they wa'n't!"

"I mean where we lived then," corrected Polly.

"Wal, they ain't here nor there now," she insisted.

"Can't we go up attic?" questioned Polly. "You said, the other day, there was an attic to—"

"I hain't got nothin' up there," Mrs. Bean broke in, with flaming face.

"Will you allow us to look through it, please?" The lawyer's voice was low, but tense.

"There ain't no call for you to go paradin' up there," she snapped. "Pretty how d' y' do, if you can't take my word for it!"

"It is an easy matter to be mistaken," Mr. Brewster smiled. "Have you a key to the apartment? Or is it open?"

Mrs. Bean took time for reply, narrowing her eyes, as if in deep thought. She was quick to see the loophole of escape which the lawyer had shown her. Still she hesitated.

"Wal," she muttered finally, "it's barely possible I was thinkin' o' some other trunks; but I don't b'lieve I was. I do' know; I'm driven to death. I sh'd think I'd forgit my own name, slavin' 's I have to! 'T won't do no hurt, I s'pose, for you to go up an' see."

The trunks were found, as Mr. Brewster had been sure they would be. He opened both, and he and Polly hastily looked over their contents. Besides bundles of old letters, photographs, and numerous little mementoes, there was much of value,—fine table and bed linen, and silk dress, some exquisite laces, and a little box of odd pieces of jewelry.

"Oh!" Polly burst out, "I forgot grandma's watch! And mama's coral pin and her topaz ring!"

"They're downstairs," volunteered Mrs. Bean. "I forgot them, too!"

After the trunks were locked, and the keys in Mr. Brewster's pocket, he and the Doctor carried them into the hallway. While they were busy, there was a clatter of feet on the lower stairs, and Mrs. Bean slipped hurriedly away.

"I guess the children have come," said Polly.

But when the three reached the apartment below, no young folds were visible, and the lawyer silently concluded to defer his attempt with Gregory until another time.

Another later Polly's goods were brought to the hospital, and Leonora and several other children, who were able to be downstairs, were given the unbounded delight of seeing them unloaded.



Chapter XV

A Bid For Polly

Early on Monday morning Polly received an urgent request from Mrs. Jocelyn that she begin her delayed visit that very hour. So, as school was to open on Wednesday, it was decided that the little girl should accept the renewed invitation, and that Dr. Dudley should fetch her home on the succeeding afternoon.

"By that time," observed David, "we shall be all moved, and we can go to school together in the morning."

"But, oh, dear!" groaned Leonora, "that Aunt Jane will get you again, sure! Oh, Dr. Dudley, don't let her go alone, please don't!"

Polly laughed happily. It was hard for Leonora to realize that Mrs. Bean had no more power over her beloved friend.

But Dr. Dudley did not laugh. Leonora had been of the band of anxious ones on that night of suspense, and he could understand how she still feared to have Polly venture for without a protector.

"You need not worry," he assured her. "I shall not let Polly out of my sight until she is safely inside Mrs. Jocelyn's house."

"I could go alone just as well," smiled the little girl. "There is n't any danger."

"It is too long a walk," returned the Doctor, "and don't you dare to come back, young lady, until you come with me!" He shook his finger at her threateningly.

She giggled, while David remarked, with a mischievous twinkle:—

"That would be a good way to keep her there—you need n't go after her!"

"Do you want me to stay away, David Collins?" demanded Polly.

"No, I don't," he admitted laughing.

"Oh, don't talk about her staying away!" pleaded Leonora. "We did, just in fun, last time, and then she was lost!"

"Oh, you funny, blessed Leonora!" cried Polly, putting her arms around her friend's neck, "I'm not going to get lost, or stay away, either—only one night. I guess you can stand it for just one night."

Dr. Dudley saw his charge inside Mrs. Jocelyn's door, according to his promise; but the little lady told him that he need not come after her, for she would bring her back on the following day.

Mrs. Jocelyn's home was in a delightful quarter of the city, opposite a park of many acres. The house was dignified mansion, full of stately old furniture, and if it had not been for its owner's cheery hospitality it would have been rather awe-inspiring to a little girl like Polly. But Polly, having been several times a guest in the big house, now felt quite at home, and ran up and down the polished oaken stairs and through the grand, dimly lighted hallways as merrily as if she had always been used to such imposing surroundings.

"It is too bad Dorothy could n't stay over till this week," Mrs. Jocelyn said; "but never mind! She'll come again before long, and then you'll see her. We'll have such pleasant times to-day and to-morrow, that she won't be missed. This afternoon are going shopping, and you are to buy presents for everybody you like."

"Oh!" beamed Polly.

"And to-morrow morning," her hostess went on, "we are invited to a musicale across the street, at Mrs. Trowbridge's, where we shall the wonderful little violinist who is being made so much of by musicians."

"Won't that be lovely!" cried Polly. "I have n't heard any music in ever so long, except at church, and David's singing."

Mrs. Jocelyn smiled appreciatively. "I knew you would enjoy it," she said. "Now I shall be busy for a few minutes, and you can do anything you choose,—mouse around the library, or play on the piano, or make out a list of what you'd like to give your friends. We will start soon after luncheon. You won't have time for much; I'm only going to make a salad dressing which I fancy I can mix a little better than Tilly can. Then I'll help you with the presents."

Polly had taken lessons of her mother, and her fingers still remembered bits of the pieces she had learned; so the piano was her first choice. Lured on by the familiar airs, she played and played, forgetting all but the music she loved.

Mrs. Jocelyn returned from the kitchen, and, unnoticed, slipped into a seat back of the player.

Finally Polly turned around.

"I felt you there!" she laughed. "Have I hindered you?"

"You have been charming me. Why, child, I did n't know you could play so well! And all out of practice, too! I should n't think you could recollect a note."

"My fingers seem to," Polly smiled. "I'll think I don't know a piece, and then my hands go right along and play it."

"I wish mine would," laughed Mrs. Jocelyn. "But I've let my music go too long; it will never come back." Her last tones were a little sad, but she quickly recovered her gayety. "Suppose we think over now," she proposed, "what you would like to purchase at the stores, and where we shall need to go. Then we can the better map out our afternoon."

Polly was all eagerness at once, and her hostess was no less interested.

"Are n't there some new girls in the ward who have n't any dolls?"

"Yes," Polly answered, "there are five or six. Let me see," tapping off the names on her fingers, "there's Mabel, and Stella, and Frederica, and Angiola, and Trotty,—she's only four,— and Mary Pender, and Ida Regan,—she's real pretty; that makes seven: I think that's all."

"You shall choose a doll for each one of them. You will know better than I just what will suit."

"Oh, it will be such fun!" chuckled Polly. "And you sure so good to do it!"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed the little lady. "I'm only being good to myself. I have just begun to learn what money is for, and I am enjoying it—for the first time in years!" A shadow stole over the wrinkled pink-and-white face; but a smile quickly chased it away. "Now, my love, whose name shall head your list of especial friends?"

"I don't know," Polly hesitated. "Do you mean children?"

"I mean anybody that you would like to honor with a gift. Suppose you begin with Miss Price—Miss Lucy Price."

"Oh, I'd love to! But what could I get?"

"Plenty of things to choose from,—books and jewelry and all sorts of knick-knacks, besides pretty bits to wear."

"I think she'd like a new hand bag," ventured Polly. "Hers is so gray and shabby. Would it cost too much?"

"No, indeed!" laughed Mrs. Jocelyn. "You shall buy the very prettiest one we can find. But before I forget it I must see about something else. I want your picture, and I know your hospital friends would like it, too. Wait a minute, and I'll call up Fisher, and secure an appointment for this afternoon if possible."

She disappeared in the tiny room back of the staircase, set apart for the telephone, and Polly heard her voice, as she talked over the wire. "I have promised to have you there at three o'clock," she announced presently. "That will give us a good two hours for shopping, if we don't talk too long over our luncheon."

"Am I dressed all right?" queried Polly, anxiously; adding, "Who will want my picture? The folks at the hospital see me all the time."

"Oh, you precious bit of humanity!" cried the little lady, taking Polly in her arms. "If I should tell you that you will make so sweet a picture that everybody will want it, would you believe it?"

"No," Polly laughed, "because it would n't be true."

Mrs. Jocelyn kissed her for answer, and then asked what she would like to give to David.

"He has a knife," mused Polly, scowling her forehead over the problem.

"How would a sterling silver fruit knife do?" suggested the little lady.

That was decided to be just the thing, and went down on the list. For Dr. Dudley, in addition to the photograph, Polly thought a nice handkerchief would be suitable gift, and Mrs. Jocelyn wrote, "Box of H." opposite his name.

"Could I give Leonora Hewitt something to wear?" ventured Polly. "She thinks so much of pretty things; but she can't have many, because her father is poor, and there are a lot of children besides her. Leonora is a sweet girl—and, oh, is n't it lovely? Dr. Dudley says now that she will get over her lameness, and be able to walk as well as anybody!"

"That is delightful!" agreed Mrs. Jocelyn. "You shall surely get a beautiful something for Leonora."

"Don't you think a pink hair ribbon would be nice?" Polly asked.

Her hostess smiled over the modesty of the gift, and was about to suggest some article of jewelry; but she finally let it go as Polly had chose, only adding on the paper, "and sash."

"We may change every one of these, when we come to the real selection," laughed the little lady; "but the list will be a guide."

Nobody was forgotten, not even Miss Hortensia Price, an "Illustrated Browning" being against her name.

They were on their way shortly after one o'clock, in Mrs. Jocelyn's stately coach, drawn by the handsome iron-grays that were Polly's admiration. It would be hard to say which enjoyed the shopping most, Polly in her innocent delight of giving, or the old little lady who was fast growing young in her now-found life. With a carriage full of bundles, they drove up to the photographer's precisely at the hour appointed, and Polly, radiant from her joyful experience, made a picture that charmed the artist as well as his patron.

The next morning's musicale was quite the feast that Polly had anticipated, and Mrs. Jocelyn's was a twofold enjoyment. The little girl had feared that her white dress was too wrinkled for grand a party; so her hostess's maid had smoothed it into its original perfection, and, to make good the hair ribbon that had been lost, Mrs. Jocelyn had bought an even prettier one—the palest blue sprinkled with forget-me-nots, and sash too match.

After luncheon came the delightful task of giving the presents pretty holiday touches with fancy tissue papers and gay ribbons.

"We're having the best part of it, are n't we?" chuckled Polly, tilting her head to one side as she tied a pink baby ribbon around Leonora's dainty box.

The little lady did not instantly answer; then, dropping her work, she caught the surprised child in her arms with almost a sob.

"O Polly, Polly!" she cried passionately, "I must have you! I must! I must! You have taught me how to live, and you belong to me! O Polly! Will you come?" She held her off, gazing pleadingly into her face.

"What—do you mean?" faltered the little girl.

"My darling! Did I frighten you? I mean I want you for my own dear daughter! I have n't said anything before, because I feared the woman you have supposed was your aunt would not give you up. But now that you are free I feel that I must have you? I meant to speak to Dr. Dudley first; but I could n't wait, dearest! Don't you want to come and live with me? I know it's a gloomy old house, but I will make it all over into the sunshiniest home you ever saw. You shall have everything you wish! I will buy you the very prettiest pair of Shetland ponies I can find, and the loveliest little carriage! You can take your friends driving every day!"

"That would be beautiful," responded Polly, with a faint smile.

"And you shall have the nicest doll house you ever heard of, and a whole set of furniture for your biggest doll! I'll fit you up two of the prettiest rooms in the house, and furnish them in white and blue! You shall have a new piano and take lessons of the very best master, and next summer we will go abroad and see all the wonders of Europe! Oh, there's no end to the happy things we'll do, if you will come and be my little girl! You will; won't you, Polly?"

"Why, I—don't know!" gasped the child. "You take my breath away!" She looked actually distressed.

"Poor darling!" The little lady folded Polly in her arms. "Of course you can't make up your mind all in a minute! I've thought of it so long, I did n't realize that it was news to you. I'm such an impatient body! Talk it over with Dr. Dudley, and he will make things all clear. Now we'll forget it, and finish up these packages. What do yo suppose Leonora will say to her new ribbons?"

The voice was gay, so sure was the little lady that Polly, counseled by the far-seeing doctor, would make quick choice of so auspicious an offer.

But Polly could not easily be won back to her former blitheness. She finished her part of the task in an absent-minded manner; yet by the time she was on her way to deliver her presents she was more talkative and merry.

So splendid a coach was seldom seen on the poor, narrow street where Brida lived, and big-eyed babies and listless loungers watched its progress. Brida was at school; but her mother received with loud expressions of gratitude and praise the pretty doll carriage which Polly had brought.

Elsie, in a still narrower, dirtier street, had a similar gift; while for the others of Polly's hospital friends who had returned to their homes there were books and paper dolls, pocket knives and boxes of candy. It was a pleasant hour, yet Polly was not sorry when the carriage turned towards the hospital.

Mrs. Jocelyn would not go in, and the little girl bade her good-bye with a clinging embrace.

"I love you de-arly!" she whispered: which made the little lady smile happily to herself all the way up the street.

Nobody was in the Doctor's office, and Polly lingered by the pile of packages which the footman had deposited on the couch. She was pulling out David's present from under the others, the present that had finally been changed from a fruit knife to a flute, when a voice from the doorway called out:—

"Hul-lo, Pol-lee!"

She turned, to see David's merry face.

"You can't guess what I've got for you!" chuckled the lad.

"You could n't possibly guess what I've got for you!" she retorted gaily.

David's eyes opened wonderingly, falling on the pile of bundles. Then he went back to his own secret.

Putting his hand in his pocket, he drew forth what Polly had feared she should never see again.

"My locket and chain!" she cried.

David grinned happily, and passed over the necklace.

"Where did you get it?" she questioned.

"You may thank Cornelius for it," he told her. "I met him down on Grant Street, and—I don't know what made me—I happened to speak of your losing this. He was interested all at once, and wanted me to tell him just how it looked. When I said the locket was set with turquoises, he clapped his hand on his side and cried out, 'I bet yer that was it! I bet yer 't was!' It seems he'd seen a boy—only this morning—showing a locket to a little kid, and he thought then it was queer he should be having a girl's locket round that way. Cornelius said he could get it easy enough of the boy had it with him. So we went round to the school, and waited till 't was out. He had to go on an errand for his father this afternoon, and so was excused early.

"Burt Sehl is the boy's name, and Cornelius and I walked along with him till we got off the street—Cornel' was sharp enough not to tackle him near the school. As soon as the crowd thinned out, he asked him if he had that locket, and at first Burt put up a bluff. Finally he admitted that he got it from Greg. Simpson; said he swapped a lot of tops and marbles for it."

"I should n't suppose he'd have given it up," cried Polly excitedly.

David laughed. "He did n't without a tussle; but Cornelius was more than a match for him—my! Don't I wish I were as strong as he!"

"You will be some day," encouraged Polly. "But I'm glad I chose that book for Cornelius—it's all about a knight!"

"What book?" queried David.

"Oh, the book I left at his home for him this afternoon! I forgot," and she caught up the long parcel for David. "I hope you'll like that," she said.

The boy's eyes glistened when he saw what it was.

"Oh, you don't know how many times I've wished I had a flute!" he cried, fingering the little instrument delightedly.

"What's going on here?" called Dr. Dudley, from the open door.

"These are going in here!" flashed Polly, deftly transferring a square, thin package from the couch to the Doctor's pocket.

It caught and held by one corner, but the physician did not leave it long. He looked at it critically, and then laid it on the table, and began untying the bright ribbon which bound it.

"You have seen the hole in my Sunday handkerchief!" exclaimed the Doctor, dramatically, his eyes a-twinkle as he opened the box.

Polly and David laughed.

The handkerchiefs were fine and dainty enough to suit the most fastidious gentleman, and Dr. Dudley expressed sincere admiration for the gift.

Then the story of the locket had to be told again, and at its end David discovered that it was time for him to be at his new home.

Polly began to look over the packages, picking out what she wished to carry upstairs at once.

"Are n't you going to tell me about your visit?" asked the Doctor, dropping into his easiest chair with a luxurious sigh of relief, after a hard day.

The little girl's face grew suddenly grave. In the pleasure of the last hour she had forgotten the trouble that had been looming ahead of her ever since Mrs. Jocelyn's proposition. She laid Mabel's doll back on the pile, and came slowly over to the Doctor.



Chapter XVI

A Secret

"You went shopping, I observe," began Dr. Dudley, tentatively.

"Yes," responded Polly, balancing herself on the arm of his chair. "Mrs. Jocelyn bought lots of things for me to give to people. We bade out a list—or she did. She let me choose."

"That was kind."

"Yes," Polly assented, and then studied the rug for a moment.

The Doctor waited.

"We went to a musicale, this forenoon, at Mrs. Trowbridge's," she resumed. "The little boy was there who plays the violin so beautifully. Mrs. Jocelyn got me a new hair ribbon and sash to wear."

"Did you enjoy those better than the music?" twinkled the doctor.

"Oh, no!" The tone was almost reproachful. "One piece the boy played was lovely. I hated to have him stop. I wish I could play as well as he—no, I don't either! I don't want to!" she burst out fiercely.

Dr. Dudley glanced at her quizzically. "You seem to be a young lady of changeable opinions," he smiled.

Her lip quivered; but she struggled hard against tears.

"Suppose you tell me all about it, Thistledown," the Doctor said gently.

"Oh, don't let me go and be her little girl!" she broke out. "Don't! don't! I'll do anything, if you'll only let me stay with you!"

He drew her down into his lap, and soothed her with tender words.

"Nobody shall ever take you from me against your will, Thistledown!" His voice was tensely unnatural. "Does Mrs. Jocelyn wish to adopt you? Did she say so?"

"I don't know about adopting. She wants me to go and live with her. She said I could have everything, if I only would,—a new piano, and lessons, and two rooms all furnished beautiful, and a doll house, and go to Europe, and a pony—two of 'em—and, oh, I don't remember half!"

And you are sure you wish to give up all that grandeur for this old codgery doctor who has n't any money?"

"You are n't old, and you are n't cod—the other thing—and I love you! Do you—do you want me to go?" she sobbed.

"Thistledown,"—and his voice was very tender,—"I think such an arrangement as Mrs. Jocelyn proposes would break my heart. Still, if you really would be happy in going to her, I trust I should be unselfish and brave enough to give you up. But I am gladder than you can guess that you have chosen the life with me."

"I could n't choose any other way; but I love her, I lover her ever so much!" Polly sighed. "I'm afraid she will feel bad not to have me go. Oh, I wish there did n't so many folks want me— first Aunt Jane, and now her!"

"It must be rather troublesome to be in such demand," the Doctor smiled.

"It is," responded Polly between a laugh and a sob.

The sat for a while in silence, Polly's head nestled on the broad shoulder.

Finally Dr. Dudley spoke. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I think I could—I know I could," she answered slowly; "but I never have any to keep."

"I am going to let you into one," he smiled; "but you must n't breathe a word of it to anybody."

"Oh, I won't! I won't tell it as long as I live!" she declared solemnly.

He laughed. "This will not be so great a tax on your patience as all that. I hope the secret will be out in a month. The thistledown, what should you say if I should tell you that Miss Lucy and I are going to be married?"

Polly sat up straight, her eyes round with astonishment.

"Truly?" she cried.

"Truly!" he nodded.

"Why-ee! I never thought as you like Miss Lucy very much! You acted just as if you like High Price better!"

The Doctor's shoulders shook with soft laughter.

"And won't Miss Lucy be nurse up in the ward any more?" Poly queried.

"Not after we are married. We are going to housekeeping. You know the little brown cottage just beyond Colonel Gresham's?"

"The one with vines all over the piazzas?"

"Yes. That is to be our home."

Polly had dropped back on the Doctor's shoulder, and he, absorbed in his happy dreams, did not look down to note the shadow that suddenly swept all joy from the little face. When she spoke again, it was the tone rather than the words that brought him to himself with a pang of compunction.

"That—won't be so very far away," she faltered.

"Oh, Polly!" with a quick tightening clasp, "you did n't suppose we would leave you behind?"

She glanced up in sudden wonder and hope.

"Our home would n't be home without you. You are going with us, to be our own little daughter! We have it all planned; it has only awaited your sanction."

Polly lay very still, big teardrops trickling down her cheeks.

"You want to go, Thistledown?" the Doctor asked softly.

"Oh," she breathed, "I don't—dare—speak, for fear—it is n't real! It is so beautiful!" She stroked his big hand with her slender little fingers.

"It is very real," he smiled. "You need n't be afraid. We cannot give you the splendid things that you would have with Mrs. Jocelyn; but I can promise you all the love that any little girl could wish for. We want to make your life so happy that you will lose sight of troublesome times that have gone before."

"I could n't help being happy with you and Miss Lucy." And Polly suddenly sprang up, flinging her arms around the Doctor's neck, and resting her cheek against his with almost a sob. "Oh, I wish mamma knew!" she whispered. "Do you s'pose she does?"

"We will surely hope so," he answered. "It seems to me that Haven is nearer than some people believe."

"It would make her so happy," Polly went on. "I do wish you could have known mamma. She was such a dear!"

"I am glad to have so close a friendship with her little daughter," smiled the Doctor.

Light raps at the door made Polly slip to her feet, and sent Dr. Dudley across the room. Polly hurriedly brushed away the only remaining tear, and looked up to greet Miss Hortensia Price.

The nurse had come to talk with Dr. Dudley about a patient, and Polly went over to the couch, and searched among the parcels for a certain package. Her fingers trembled with joyous excitement. The world had suddenly turned rose color. Every sorrow had flown away. Even the grief which had been ever present with her for nearly three years was for the moment swallowed up in the joy of believing that mamma knew! She came upon the package she sought, examined it carefully to make sure that it was the right one, and then went, a little shyly, to Miss Price. She waited for Dr. Dudley stopped talking.

The lady received the holiday-attired parcel with a surprised look.

"Mrs. Jocelyn bought some presents," explained Polly, "for me to give to my friends, a I chose Robert Browning's 'Poems' for you. I hope you'll like it."

"Like it! Why, you dear child!" Miss Price dropped the book in her lap, and caught Polly's hands in hers. "How did you ever guess that Browning is my favorite poet?"

"You said so, one day, when we were playing Authors, up in the ward."

"And you remembered!" She began untying the ribbon. "I was thinking only yesterday that I must have a copy."

The volume was richly bound, and beautiful with illustrations. Miss Price fingered it with the caressing tough of a booklover. If her thanks were a bit conventional, Polly knew that back of them lay real gratitude and appreciation.

The little girl went back to her parcels with an added gladness. She began piling them on her arm.

"Don't carry too many," warned Dr. Dudley. "I'll take them up for you."

"I will bring some along when I come." Promised Miss Price.

So Polly put back all but two dolls and a few small packages, and started upstairs humming softly a gay little air.

Presently the song was hushed by happy thoughts. To think of living in a dear little cottage, all alone with Miss Lucy and Dr. Dudley! To sit down at the table, three times a day, with them both! And at bedtime! There was never room for jealousy in Polly's heart; but sometimes when Miss Lucy cuddled the little ones in her arms, her mother-hungry should felt starved out of its rightful food. And now!—she could almost feel the dear arms around her! She stopped halfway up the second flight, and bent her head reverently.

"O Lord Jesus, I think thee!" she whispered. "Please let mamma know how beautiful it is going to be! For Thy Name's sake. Amen."

The door of the ward was open; but so light were her footfalls that she stood on the threshold a moment before being noticed. Then came a shout and a rush and such frantic huggings that Polly and her parcels seemed in danger of coming to sorrow.

"That is for Stella," Polly finally managed to say, freeing a hand long enough to pass the box over one or two heads to the little girl beyond.

This turned the attention in Stella Pope's direction, and Polly hastened down the room to a cot where a little girl lay, her big blue eyes staring out in line with her pillow, taking no note of the commotion going on behind her.

"Trotty, see what I've brought you!" was Polly's cheery greeting.

The little four-year-old turned slightly, with a wavering smile. She was a strange wisp of a girl, and Polly was not in the least disappointed when she made no answer, only watched the fingers that were untying the bright ribbon.

"Now—what do you s'pose?" smiled Polly, staying the cover a moment to make the gift of more effect.

There was look of expectancy on the midget's face. A word of joy broke from her lips.

Polly laid the beautiful doll in her arms, smiling to see the rapture in the big blue eyes.

Then a wee shadow crept over. "Mine? All mine?" questioned the tiny one.

"Yes, all yours," was the sure answer. "Is n't it a darling?"

Trotty did not speak, but hugged the new baby to her heart in a way that left no doubt. Polly wished that Mrs. Jocelyn were there to see.

After the other smaller packages had been left with the several patients for whom they were marked, Polly said, in a voice that carried to all the cots:—

"This is n't all. There is something for everybody; but I could n't bring so many. Dr. Dudley and miss Price are coming up with the rest."

They started a babel of joyous questioning; but Polly was responsive and patient, and altogether so satisfactory, that the little sick people settled back on their pillows in supreme content, to await the coming of their presents.

The others had heard, too, and pressed about Polly with eager talk.

"I chose a doll for every girl that has n't any," she told them gaily, "and I got just as pretty ones as there were in the store."

"Say, what colored hair has mine?" questioned Mabel.

"Light, like Stella's, I think."

"Oh, goody!" squealed the little maid. "And is it curly?"

Polly nodded.

"Wha' d' yer buy for Leonora?" queried a curious one.

Polly threw a bright smile across to her friend, while she answered merrily:—

"You wait! It's something pretty."

"I guess Polly's had an awful good time," observed thoughtful Mary Pender; "she's so full of fun."

Miss Lucy, entering the ward at the moment, overheard the remark, as her eyes met Polly's.

The little girl waived a reply, and ran over to greet the nurse.

"Is Mary right?" Miss Lucy smiled.

Polly hesitated, growing grave. Then her eyes danced mischievously. "Just about right," she answered softly. "It was 'good' and 'awful' both. But I had a lovely time with Dr. Dudley after I came home—lovely!"

Miss Lucy sent a quick searching glance into the happy eyes, and they fell before it. Polly feared she had told too much. But no, she reasoned, because the secret was also Miss Lucy's. She looked up again half shyly. The nurse's cheeks were very pink, and her lips were smiling.

"Precious child!" she murmured; and then she kissed her, a bit of favoritism which she seldom allowed herself. But there was now an excuse. Polly had been away.

Shortly afterwards Miss Hortensia Price and the Doctor appeared, laden with happiness for the ward. The dignified nurse seemed in a holiday mood, to match her ribboned armful, and she remained to see the delight of the children, as they unwrapped their presents.

Leonora lingered over the untying of her box, as if reluctant to risk the pretty flowered bit of pasteboard for what lay within. Polly went across to where she sat.

"I'm waiting to know how you like it," she smiled.

Leonora finally lifted the cover, and her long-drawn, "O-h!" of surprise and joy was enough for the donor.

"It is just like mine," Polly explained, "only mine is forget-me-nots on pale blue."

"That must be lovely," said Leonora; "but I like this best for me—it don't seem as if it could be for me!"

She carefully raised an end of the broad white sash ribbon, and sighed rapturously over the beautiful pink rosebuds scattered along its length.

"That is exquisite," agreed Miss Price, coming to her side. "Pink is exactly the color for you. Polly has shown excellent taste in its selection."

"Oh, Polly always knows just what's right!" praised Leonora.

Miss Price did not reply, only smiled across to Polly in the friendliest way.

"Is n't High Price lovely this afternoon!" whispered the lame girl, as the tall nurse turned to admire a doll which was help up for her inspection.

Polly nodded happily. Everything was "lovely" now. What a glad, beautiful world it was!

"My dear!" A pair of soft arms clasped her from behind, and Polly found herself looking up into Miss Lucy's radiant face. "I believe you are a little witch!" she laughed "You have given me just such a bag as I have coveted for a good many years, but which I never expected to won."

"I'm so glad!" responded Poly. "But Mrs. Jocelyn chose it— the kind, I mean."

She might have added that she should never have dared select on at that price; but she only smiled joyously.

"Then I will thank you and Mrs. Jocelyn both," smiled Miss Lucy, moving away with the other nurse.

"Was n't it nice of her to buy all these things for you to give us!" said Leonora happily.

Polly's response was sober. She could not quite forget how sorry the dear little lady would be when she heard what had been decided. But her seriousness soon gave place to laughter. The ward was in too merry a mood to allow aught but mirth within its walls.



Chapter XVII

The Wedding

The next morning David called for Polly on his way to school, and the two went off together, the children waving good-byes from the windows. They returned, at noon, in love with their teachers, in love with the scholars, in love with their new books and all pertaining to the school. Such funny, interesting things had happened, and Polly told about them all dinner time.

Leonora watched her two friends go back in the afternoon, feeling a little sad. If only she could go, too! But she was growing well and strong; Dr. Dudley had assured her that she would soon be able to run about like other girls. The sadness, after all, ended in a long breath of joy.

The weeks before the secret came out where very happy weeks for Polly. Only a ew days after her visit to Mrs. Jocelyn came a package, a large, flat, nearly square package. It arrived while she was at school, and she found the children eyeing it curiously as it lay on Miss Lucy's desk.

"It's for you," announced Stella, "and she said there must n't anybody touch it. She would n't open it herself."

Polly looked at the white parcel, and wondered, too. She had been expecting photographs; but this was too big for those, she decided. Hastily she untied the string. Miss Lucy came in just as she turned back the wrapper.

"O-h!"

"Why, Polly May, you've gone and had your picture taken!"

"My! Ain't it splendid?"

"Whew! Bet that cost somethin'!"

Miss Lucy caught a glimpse of the photograph, which brought her quickly across the room.

"Polly dear, what a surprise this is!"

"I don't think it looks much like me," murmured the little girl, staring wonderingly and the beautiful picture.

It was of large size, exquisitely finished in carbon, and mounted in a handsome folder.

"Why, it looks exactly like her! Don't it, Miss Lucy?" queried Mabel.

"I think I never saw a better likeness," smiled the nurse.

"There!" exulted Mabel. "Say, what made you think it did n't?"

But Polly only laughed a little uncertainly. "Never mind, if you like it!" she told them.

"Oh, here's another kind!" piped Stella, whose curious fingers had discovered a photograph showing Polly in a different pose.

This was full-length; the other was only head and shoulders.

"There's one more, I think," said Polly, "where I had some flowers in my hand."

A hunt soon revealed it,—"the very sweetest of all!" Leonora declared.

The girls hung over it rapturously.

"Will you give me one?" begged Mabel.

"And me"—"And me?"—"And me?" chorused the others.

"Polly cannot tell right off just what she will be able to do," interposed Miss Lucy. "Dr. Dudley has n't seen them yet. Suppose you run down and show them to him, Polly."

Down the stairs skipped Polly, glad to get away from the too eager children.

The Doctor received them delightedly. Polly watched him with thoughtful eyes.

"Do you think they look like me?" she ventured at last.

"Very much," he answered, smiling at the anxious pucker between Polly's eyebrows. "What is the trouble?"

The pink in her cheeks deepened to crimson. "I am not—so pretty as that," she faltered. "You know I'm not. And I hate to give away such pictures. It seems as if folks would think I wanted to make out I looked better than I really do."

Dr. Dudley's eyes were bent to the photograph in hand. He thought hard and fast. Should he tell her the truth,—that the beautiful black-and-white print, with all its exquisite softness, scarcely did justice to the delicate mobile face?

"I wanted you and Miss Lucy to have one," she went on, "and Colonel Gresham, and David, and High Price, and Leonora, and Cornelius—for he was so good to get my locket back. Then the rest of them—there are a dozen—I thought I'd give to anybody that wanted one; but now—" she halted appealingly.

"Well, if I were you, Thistledown," and the Doctor threw his arm in a comradely way across the slim shoulders, "I should go straight along and give my pictures to those for whom I had intended them, with no thought about any lack of resemblance. You sat for the photographs, and you are not to blame for any possible mistake the camera may have made; so don't let it bother you."

She gave a little gleeful chuckle. "It is the camera's fault, is n't it? I never thought of that. Well, if you think it's all right to give them away, it must be; but it did n't seem quite— hones, you know." She looked up still a bit anxious.

The Doctor smoothed away the tiny wrinkle on her forehead, and smiled down into the clear brown eyes.

"It is perfectly right, Polly; in fact, it would be wrong to spoil so much pleasure for such a little reason. The pictures are far more lifelike than most people's are, and nobody will stop to compare them with the original, feature by feature."

"No, I guess they won't," she laughed. "You pick out the one you want to keep, and next I'll let Miss Lucy choose."

Dr. Dudley watched her, as she danced away happily up the stairs. The he studied the photograph before him, doing exactly what he had assured her that no one would think of doing; but his final judgment, like his first intuition, was not in favor of the print.

The simplest of church weddings had been planned by the two most closely concerned, for neither had other home than the hospital; but Mrs. Jocelyn overthrew plans and arguments together.

"What is my big house good for," she demanded, "if it cannot be useful at a time like this? You shall come and make it merry once more in its old life!"

She ended by carrying off Miss Lucy for a whole week before the appointed day, and the hospital had to hustle another nurse into the ward which was both sorrowful and glad.

That was a week of happy upsetting for the stately old mansion. Carpenters, electricians, florists, and tradespeople of various classes, all joined in the joyous whirl. Dr. Dudley and Polly whizzed back and forth in the automobile, and the dignified grays were kept trotting to and from the house at all hours of the day and evening.

It had been early arranged for Polly and Leonora to remain with Mrs. Jocelyn for the two weeks that the Doctor and his wife were to be away on their wedding journey, and the little lame girl, who now had only the tiniest limp, was in alternate rapture and dismay.

"To think" she would exclaim, squeezing Polly ecstatically, "of me being in that splendid house, with you and that beautiful Mrs. Jocelyn for fourteen whole days! But, oh, mercy!" she would cry, "I'm dreadfully afraid she'll not want me so long! I shall be sure to say or do something wrong! I'm not used to grand folks like her;" and joy would end with a sigh.

Thin it was Polly's part to reassure her with laughing words, until the delight would come back to crowd out all fears.

One large room in the house on Edgewood Avenue had been reserved for the wedding presents, and, although Miss Lucy had jestingly remarked that a little hall chamber was more than would be needed, the apartment was packed with love tokens long in advance of the day. Both the nurse and the physician had won many friends in their years of hospital service, and now all seemed anxious to show honor to these two who had helped to add length and comfort to their lives.

One morning, just before starting for Mrs. Jocelyn's, Dr. Dudley read this note to Polly:—

My Dear Doctor,—

I have been wondering, ever since I heard Your good news, how Polly was going to ride, Inasmuch as two fill your runabout. I have Too much consideration for the lady who will Sit by your side to wish her always to bear The burden of Polly's weight; so I have ordered for you a car that will seat five without crowding. There is a place ready for it in my carriage house. That won't be far for you to come, and it will be handier for me whenever Lone Star goes lame.

Your sincere friend,

GRESHAM.

Lucky for me I happened to think of this, For it would get on my nerves to see Polly Hanging on behind every time you and Mrs. Dudley went to ride. D. G.

"What a funny man!": laughed Polly. "You'd think Lone Star went lame about once a week! But is n't that a lovelicious present— a big auto!—my!"

"It is too much." Dr. Dudley shook his head gravely.

"Why, he loves to do it for you," argued Polly. "Besides, it is not just for you," she chuckled; "it is so he won't have to see me sitting is Miss Lucy's lap or 'hanging on behind'! Would n't that look funny?"

The Doctor laughed, and put the note in his pocket.

At Mrs. Jocelyn's, Miss Lucy met them at the entrance.

"I'm so glad you've come," she cried. "I was wishing you would, to see what Colonel Gresham has sent me."

"Why—" began Polly, and then stopped, blushing at having almost told about the new motor car. That was not hers to speak of first.

Dr. Dudley sent a swift glance of appreciation in her direction, and followed Miss Lucy's leading.

"That came for you, Polly, at the same time," she said, handing the girl a small square package. "A man just brought them."

THE END