"I'll be there about three, but I'd better call you up before I start. I'm sorry you won't tell me."
"It doesn't need to be told. Anybody could guess!"
"I can't see any clue."
She laughed. "I'm the clue! Good-bye."
CHAPTER XXXVI
POLLY DUDLEY TO CHRISTOPHER MORROW
Saturday Morning, Dear Chris,—
I have such an avalanche of news, I don't know where to begin. First, I must thank you for your dear letter and the wild flowers. They are lovely. We were immensely interested in hearing about your school, it is all so different from ours. What do you think father said, Chris Morrow! He put the sheets carefully back in the envelope, and as he laid it on the table he exclaimed, "That boy is a born letter-writer!" It ought to make you very proud, but I know it won't. He never said that over a letter of mine! But I am not jealous. I do wish you were here. I wish it every day. But I'm glad you are so happy with your father, and that he has such a splendid position. Now for my news!
I ought to be dusting my room this very minute! My desk is so dusty—it blew in last evening, I guess, when the window was open, the dust, I mean—and it stares me in the face and makes me feel guilty. I can't do as Mrs. Albright does when her room is dusty and she doesn't feel like dusting. I went to see her one day, and she was sitting by the window, smiling as usual. She said, "Don't look around, dear, for I presume the dust is thick on everything. I was too tired to dust after my walk, so I took off my glasses and have been having a really beautiful time in spite of the dust."
Later.