“I was sure you loved Christina,” Polly had said, when she had answered his one big question with one small affirmative word.
“And I have been torturing myself because I was equally sure you loved Kestridge.”
Polly had colored in the darkness.
“Shall I confess to you that I was very, very nearly doing this?”
“Did you not do it altogether?” Valentine queried, jealously.
Polly shook her head.
“No; not altogether, dear,” she answered him, and he was satisfied. When he went down after his interview with Mrs. Pennington he found Grace ensconced beside Polly, who, much against her will, was stretched out on a couch.
“Oh! Valentine, thank you! thank you!” Grace said, as she kissed him. “I have always longed for a sister, and Polly is just the sister I should have chosen.”
Valentine knelt down beside his little sweetheart’s couch.
“And I have to thank you for a mother. Polly, all is done as you desired it, and your mother’s home is with us henceforward at Sunstead. We will choose her the largest and brightest room, and Grace shall share with us in her happiness.”