"Mamma and I are going to live with Uncle David." So the boy told Polly late that afternoon. "He says he has lost time enough, and now we must come as soon as we can pack up."

"Is n't that splendid!" beamed Polly, thinking she had never seen David look so happy or so handsome.

"Uncle David is nicer—a great deal nicer—than I dreamed he could be. O Polly, I can't thank you enough!"

"Thank me?" repeated Polly. "What for?"

"Polly May!" and David gazed at her incredulously. Then he laughed.

"Oh, you little bunch of unselfishness!" he cried. "I believe you have n't the least idea that Uncle David's making up with us is all your doing!"

"Why, David Collins, it is n't! I just told him it would make me happy if he would—that's all!"

"Just as I said!" he laughed. "O Polly, Polly! Don't you see— no, no, I'd rather you would n't! Don't try to see!"

"I could n't!" chuckled Polly. "There is n't anything to see!"

"All right! It's grand anyway! Mamma looks so much prettier and younger! Oh, you can't think how happy—"

The telephone cut off his sentence, and he ran across the office.

He listened a moment; then Polly heard him say, "She is right here. If you'll wait, please, I'll ask her."

David turned from the instrument. "It is Mrs. Jocelyn," he explained. "She wants you to come up there to-morrow afternoon, and stay all night and next day. Her cousin's little girl— Dorothy Cannon, I think the name is—will be there, and she wants you too."

"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.

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.

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.