"Where are we going?" she asked when they were in the sleigh.
"Never mind, I've a scheme," Bob told her. "Shut your eyes." He headed the pony toward the bay. The cold air acted as a tonic on Polly. By the time they stopped before an old tumble down fisherman's hut, she was quite herself again.
"Why, it's Uncle Cy's place!" she exclaimed. "Bobby, how did you ever think of him?"
They pushed open the door, without knocking, and entered the one little room that served for all purposes.
Uncle Cy was one of Polly's earliest and best of friends; he was an old fisherman. They had spent many long, happy days together, when she was a little girl. He welcomed her heartily.
"Why, Miss Polly. I was beginning to think I'd have to go one Christmas without a word from you," he said. "How are you? You're getting mighty handsome," he teased "and I'm sorry to see it. I never did hold with handsome women. 'Handsome is as handsome does,' I always say," he added with a wink. "And you, Mr. Bob, how do you do again? That basket you brought me this morning was mighty good," he said with a chuckle.
"We're just here for a second," Polly explained. "Banker's freezing outside. Have you had a Merry Christmas?" she asked brightly. No one could be unhappy long under the spell of Uncle Cy's genial smile.
"Fair to middling," the old man answered, contentedly. "Have a seat," he offered.
They stayed chatting for a few minutes more, and then returned to the sleigh.
"The old darling," Polly laughed, "he hasn't changed a bit."