LITMIR.BIZ

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were not allowed to revert to their unpleasant channel, with the result that when she returned to school things had regained a little of their accustomed brightness, and she was ready to smile a greeting to her friends.

      But this happier mood vanished with the opening of the door into the school dressing-hall.

      A group of girls were removing their wraps, among which was Ilga Barron. Two of them nodded carelessly to Polly, and then went on talking in low tones, with side glances towards the new-comer. Polly hurried off her coat and hat, but before they were on their hook Ilga broke out in a loud whisper, plainly intended to carry across the hall: —

      “Dr. Dudley don’t know much anyway! He’s got a sister that’s an idiot – a real idiot! They have to keep her shut up!”

      Even Ilga herself, turning to gloat over the effect of her words, was so startled that she led the way quickly upstairs to the school room, leaving Polly standing there alone, her horrified brown eyes staring out of a colorless face.

      “What in the world’s the matter?” cried Glen Stewart, appearing in the outer doorway, at the head of a string of girls. “Are you sick?”

      “No – yes – oh, I don’t know!” she stammered, catching her breath piteously.

      They clustered around her, distressed and helpless.

      “Are you faint? I’ll get you a drink!” And Lilith Brooks ran to fetch a glass.

      Polly drank the water, grateful for the kindness, although she was aware of neither faintness nor thirst. Presently she went upstairs with her friends, and the long, dragging afternoon session began.

      Several times her recitations were halting, once woefully incorrect. The teacher in charge was about to reprove her for inattention; but the wide, sorrowful eyes made an unconscious appeal, and the blunder was suffered to pass unnoticed.

      Polly was glad with a dreary kind of gladness when the hour of dismission came, and she hurried away by herself, intent only on a refuge where she should be alone and could think things out. She found the kitchen door locked and the key in its accustomed hiding-place; so she let herself in, knowing that her mother was not at home. Up in her own room she sat down by the low side window, and looked out on the bare landscape of early December.

      Aimlessly she let her eyes wander over the desolate garden of the next house, so recently robbed of all its greenery; then the muslin-draped windows opposite came within her vision. The caroling canary, in his little gilded prison, caught a glance, a frolicking squirrel running an endless race in his make-believe home, a lady stitching on a pink gown, and so towards the street. What she saw there made her start as if with pain.

      Up the sidewalk strolled a lad, “Foolish Joe” people called him, and he was, as usual, accompanied by a little band of fun-loving, teasing boys. In a moment they were gone; but the shambling central figure with its vacant face stayed with her to accentuate her distress. She leaned her head upon her arm, but she could not shut out the picture.

      Ilga’s sneering phrases rang back and forth in her brain, until clear thought was impossible.

      “Lucy! Polly! Are you up there?”

      She had not heard any one come in, and she started at sound of her father’s voice. Instead of answering she shrank back into her chair, involuntarily delaying the moment of meeting.

      Dr. Dudley was mounting the stairs, two steps at a time.

      “Well!” His tall figure filled the doorway. “Where is your mother?”

      “I – don’t know,” Polly faltered. “She’s gone out – the door was locked – maybe with Miss Curtis. Miss Curtis was here to dinner.”

      “Was she!” And then, “I am going down to Linwood, and I thought you folks would like the ride. We shall have to go alone, shan’t we?”

      Polly did not look up, – perhaps could not would be nearer the truth; but she rose instantly.

      The Doctor took a step forward, and tilted her chin upon his finger.

      In spite of her efforts to smile, her lip quivered.

      “You and David been having a quarrel?” he asked whimsically.

      “Oh, no, we never do!”

      “Perhaps you missed a word in spelling?”

      She shook her head, with a sober “No.”

      “Geography, then?”

      “Yes, I made a mistake,” she admitted.

      “I wouldn’t worry over that.”

      “No, oh, no!”

      “Then that isn’t it? How long are you going to keep me guessing?”

      She hid her face against his coat. “Don’t ask me, please!” she begged.

      “Is it as bad as that?” His tone would usually have sent her off in an amused chuckle; now she was miserably silent, pressing closer into the friendly folds.

      “If it is an all-afternoon affair, we may as well sit down,” and, wheeling about, he took the chair she had just left, drawing her to his knee.

      “Now let’s look at this together, Thistledown. Two heads ought to be wiser than one, you know. Just give me a chance to show my skill at helping.”

      “I – can’t! It would make you feel bad – awfully bad!”

      “Something you did at school? I promise my forgiveness.”

      “Oh, no! I haven’t done anything – only told Ilga Barron what I thought of her. And I’m glad I did!”

      “That the pudgy girl we met the other day? – the one that didn’t have cloth enough for a decent dress?”

      In spite of herself, Polly let go a giggle with her assent. “Why, father,” she remonstrated, “she could have her skirts longer if she wanted to! She’s Senator Barron’s daughter!”

      A quiver of laughter stirred the Doctor’s face.

      “All right, we’ll let the Senator’s daughter wear her frocks as short as she pleases. But what else has she been doing?”

      “She said,” began Polly, “that you – oh, I can’t!” She caught her breath in a sob.

      “About me, was it? I see! You’ve been carrying a burden intended for me on your small shoulders, when mine are broad enough to bear a whole pack of abuse! Drop the load at once, Thistledown!”

      Despite his tender humor, Polly detected in his voice a note of command, and she strove to obey.

      “She said – that you – that you – were a nobody!”

      “Is that all?” he laughed. “Well, so I am, measured by her standard, for I am neither a man of wealth nor an influential politician. But, Thistledown, don’t you think you are a bit foolish to let that trouble you?”

      “There’s something else,” she replied plaintively.

      “I am ready.”

      “She told some girls – she meant I should hear – that – that your sister is – an idiot!” The sentence ended in a wail.

      Dr. Dudley’s arms tightened around the slender little figure, and for a moment he did not speak.

      When words came they were in a soft, sad voice.

      “I have no sister on earth. She went to Heaven two years ago. I will tell you about it. Until Ruth was six years old she was a bright, beautiful little girl, beloved by everybody. She was eight years younger than I, and my especial pet. Then came the terrible fever, and for days we thought she could not live. Finally she rallied, only for us to discover that we had lost her – her brain was a wreck. The semblance of Ruth stayed with us twelve years longer, until she was eighteen years old; then she went Home. That is undoubtedly the foundation for Ilga’s malicious little story; but, you see, Thistledown, there is no present cause for sorrow, only thankfulness that Ruth’s journey is safely ended. We can remember

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