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.

"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.

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:—