"Yes, by all means, telephone!"
Miss Sterling darted into the next room, while Polly sprang to turn on the light.
"Hallo! Is it Mr. Randolph?" came to Polly's ears. "Juanita Sterling is talking. I am at Dr. Dudley's. Miss Crilly is very sick, and I came over for the Doctor; but he is out of town. Can you come up? Yes. Yes. Good-bye!—He says he will be here in less than ten minutes." She returned to the chair she had left, and Polly cuddled down beside her, while Mrs. Dudley went to put her dress in better order.
"I'll stay till he comes," said Polly comfortably. "Then I can run and leave you to let him in—you won't mind, will you? Do tell me more about that race, Miss Nita. Oh, don't I wish I had seen it!"
She laughed over the superintendent's probable discomfiture, and lamented Miss Crilly's illness.
"It is too bad father isn't at home," she said musingly; "but, oh. Miss Nita! what made you think of calling up Mr. Randolph? When did he tell you any such thing?"
"I went to ride with him yesterday," was the quiet answer.
"You did! Wasn't that lovely! Where did you go?"
"Over to Bryston. We took dinner at Squirrel Inn."
"Oh, my!" chuckled Polly. "What will Blanche Puddicombe say?"