"Our car won't be at liberty this forenoon," answered Polly. "Father needs it. But we can start right after luncheon. Will one o'clock do?"
The hour was agreed upon, and Mrs. Albright turned to the door.
Then she came back.
"I almost forgot my message for you, Polly! The prospect of a ride makes me good for nothing. That note for Miss Twining was from her minister, Mr. Parcell. It seems, awhile ago, she sent him a book of her own poems, and this was to acknowledge it and beg pardon for his tardiness. It is a beautiful note! She let me read it. He praises her poetry sky-high—he doesn't say too much, you know, but just enough. And you ought to see her—she is so pleased! She wanted me to tell you that she had it. When she first read it she cried, and I didn't know but it would upset her; but I guess it hasn't. He says he is coming to call on her as soon as she is able to receive visitors. She can't imagine who told him she was sick; but it isn't strange he heard of it—such news flies."
Polly's face was red with guilty blushes; but Mrs. Albright took no heed. She and Miss Crilly hurried away.
"I hope she won't ever find out my part in it," sighed Polly. "But
I can't help being glad I went, even if father did scold!"
"I was afraid he would."
"Yes," nodded Polly, with a little regretful scowl.
"But tell me about David!" broke out Miss Sterling eagerly. "Is it made up?"
Polly laughed happily. "No more quarrels forever! Mrs. Gresham was sick, and David came up for father; so I asked him to stay—and we had it out! What do you think that boy wanted? To be engaged—now!"
"Mercy! And you only thirteen!"