Polly of Lady Gay Cottage. Dowd Emma C.

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      Polly sat still in her chair, dazed by the suddenness and injustice of it. She had meant only to spare Ilga further mortification – and had lost her expected treat. She took up her history with a long sigh.

      It was a weary afternoon, and not alone to Polly. The children were distraught and restless, and things went wrong. The bell for dismissal struck a note of relief.

      Polly had a faint, a very faint hope that Ilga would explain the matter, and she watched her furtively as she passed out; but the Senator’s daughter walked straight by the teacher’s desk without turning her head, and as Polly saw her plump figure disappear in the stairway she went back to her examples, philosophically thinking that, at any rate, she could get her lessons for the next day, and so have the evening free to enjoy with mother. If there were a best to any situation, Polly was sure to find it.

      But to-night clouds gathered early about the sun, and presently the schoolroom grew dusky. Soon it was too dark to read, and with regret Polly shut her book. She looked at her little watch which she usually wore, the “wedding” gift of Colonel Gresham, and was surprised to find it to be after five. She did not put it directly back in its pocket, but held it in her hand, fingering it lovingly, thinking of David’s uncle, and then of the “stormy midnight” and the “sunshiny morning” which the little timepiece commemorated.

      So absorbed was she that the opening of the door caused her to start; but she smiled when she recognized through the dimness Miss Cordelia, the younger of the two Townsend sisters who kept the school.

      “My dear,” exclaimed Miss Cordelia’s soft voice, “I am so sorry this has happened. David Collins has been telling me how it was.”

      “David?” repeated Polly in a glad tone. “But, Miss Cordelia, I went without permission.”

      “Yes, dear; but a kind action is its own excuse. You were doubtless thinking only of Ilga.”

      “That’s every single thing I thought of,” Polly assured her. “It seemed funny she didn’t put the paper out first and then come herself; but I s’pose she was flustered and didn’t think. I felt so sorry for her, and the next thing I knew I was racing over there. I didn’t mean to break the rule, truly I didn’t, Miss Cordelia!”

      “I can easily believe you, dear, and I am sure Miss Carpenter was not intentionally unjust. She could not have understood. Somebody said she was not feeling well, and that she went home directly after school. She must have forgotten what she told you; her memory is treacherous at times. Please say to your father and mother, dear, that my sister and I are very much grieved over the occurrence, and that we shall endeavor to let nothing of the kind ever happen again. We will have that closet door widened; it has made too much trouble already. Run down to David now; he is waiting for you.” And with a kiss from the stately little lady Polly was dismissed.

      David was found on the walk leading from the pupils’ entrance executing a double shuffle, to keep his feet warm, for the air was growing keen.

      “Well! you’ve got here at last!” he cried.

      “It’s awfully good of you to wait for me,” she crooned, skipping into step.

      “Pretty queer if I hadn’t waited! I’d have got you off sooner, only the maid said they had company, and I didn’t want to butt in. So I just ran home and to your house, to tell them how it was – while I was waiting for those folks to go. I guess that maid thought I was in a mighty hurry to see Miss Townsend, for I kept running round to the kitchen to know if the coast was clear.”

      “What a lot of trouble I’ve made you!” Polly lamented.

      “Trouble nothing!” he scouted. “But whatever did you do it for? That girl! – with all the mean things she’s said! And away she stalked after school, as disdainful as ever!”

      “I know,” Polly admitted mournfully. “But I was so sorry for her – it must have been dreadful!”

      “Sorry!” David chuckled. “It was too funny!”

      Polly laughed, too, reminded of the ridiculous sight. Then she sighed. “I was awfully disappointed,” she went on. “For a minute, when Miss Carpenter told me to stay, I thought I just couldn’t stand it. I didn’t dare look at Patricia, for fear I’d cry.”

      “Don’t see what she had to do with it!” growled David.

      “Why, I was going home with Patricia right after school. Mrs. Illingworth had invited me to tea.”

      “M-m!” responded David

      “I want you to know Patricia,” Polly continued; “she’s such a dear girl.”

      “Must be!” he retorted sarcastically. “So kind to go off and leave invited company as she did! She never waited a minute!”

      “Well, but, David, what good would it have done? They board, you know, and couldn’t wait tea for me.”

      “M-m,” remarked David.

      “I don’t see why you feel so about Patricia,” Polly began.

      “I haven’t any use for a girl broncho-buster!” he broke out.

      “David Collins!”

      “Well,” he replied, in a half-ashamed tone, “she rides bronchos, doesn’t she? I heard her telling you about being on a broncho that stood right up on his hind feet, and cut up like sixty!”

      “Oh, yes, that was a horse she didn’t know about till she got on him! But he couldn’t throw her! She kept her seat! Wasn’t that splendid!”

      “Splendid!” he scorned. “It’s just as I said – she’s a – ”

      “She is not!” Polly burst out indignantly. “It just happened that once. She’s got a lovely little horse that she rides, and he’s as gentle as can be. She isn’t – that! I shouldn’t think you’d say such things about my cousin.” Polly’s voice was tearful.

      “I d’n’ know’s cousins are any better ’n other folks,” he growled.

      “Oh, David!” she protested. Then her face suddenly lighted. “You’re not afraid I’ll think more of her than I do of you, are you? David, is that it?” as he did not answer. “Why, David Collins,” she went on, the words tumbling out tempestuously, “how foolish you are! I couldn’t! You ought to know! There we were at the hospital together for so long, till it seemed just like one family, and Colonel Gresham your uncle, and all! Why, David, I don’t see what makes you feel so! You never did about Leonora.”

      “That’s different,” he mumbled. “You didn’t run off with her, and leave me to tag!”

      “Why, I don’t! I want you to come, too! Patricia thinks you’re so nice – she said so.”

      “She doesn’t know me.”

      “Enough to like you. I thought we could be friends all together.” The tone was plaintive.

      “Well,” he conceded.

      “You know I like you, David, and always shall, no matter how many other friends I have. It was lovely of you to wait for me to-night and to go and tell Miss Cordelia about it – I never shall forget that!”

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