"Come in, my dear," she said. "I have good news for you; Alan had a fairly comfortable night, and now he is asleep."
"Oh, Mrs. Hapgood!" And Polly told her the story in an excited, breathless fashion, with the same unhesitating truth she had shown in talking to her mother.
If Mrs. Adams had been kind, so was Mrs. Hapgood, as well. She spoke no word of blame, but gathered the forlorn little figure into her arms, and soothed and comforted the child with assurances of her forgiveness and Alan's, too.
"Now, Polly," she said, as she rose, "I must go back up-stairs to my boy again. And if I were in your place, I would let this matter rest a secret between ourselves, your parents and Alan. I promise you that Molly and the other girls shall never know. But I am glad that you felt you could come and tell me about it. We will hope we can have Alan down-stairs before many days, and then you must run in to see him."
Two days later, a note came for Polly, just as she was starting for school.
"Alan wants to see you," it said; "come in for a few minutes."
Polly needed no second bidding, but hurried away, glad at the thought of seeing her friend once more. Mrs. Hapgood saw her coming and met her at the door, to lead her up-stairs to Alan's room. The boy was propped up with pillows, and his face looked rather white and worn, but it lighted as Polly entered, and he stretched out his hand to her eagerly.
"Hullo, Poll!" he exclaimed. "I'm no end glad to see you."
Mrs. Hapgood had left them alone together, but Polly did not stop to notice that, as she darted impulsively to the bed, saying,—
"Oh, Alan!"