“Yes, I would!” was the unexpected response. “I’d go in a minute! Polly, I’d go anywhere or do anything for you!”
The boy believed it, and, looking into his earnest eyes, Polly almost believed it, too. She did not know how to answer. Then she shifted the viewpoint.
“But father and mother—you don’t think of them! How could they get along without any little girl?—without me?”
Harold thought and sighed. This was a new light on the matter.
“No, they couldn’t,” he admitted slowly. “They’ve known you longer than I have, and I don’t see how they could give you up. Well, I suppose I shall have to let you go.” He looked the disconsolate lover, instead of the merry-hearted boy of ten.
Two weeks before, when Polly’s small trunk had been packed, she had begged to be allowed to take with her the parting present of Chris Morrow, for hitherto there had been no occasion grand enough to warrant its being used. At first Mrs. Dudley had been in doubt, but after a few quite reasonable arguments on the part of Polly the little case had been tucked into a safe corner. The beautiful ornament had already fastened Polly’s sash a number of times, and it was again called into service for the home party. She was in a hurry when the maid clasped it, for Harold was calling her to come out in the hall and see the caterers bring the things in, and before the evening was half spent her sash was trailing out of place and the pin missing. Hastily she confided to her cousin her misfortune, and together they searched up and down the rooms. Finally, just as Harold was starting to tell Floyd of the loss, they heard a cry of surprise from one of the guests not far away, and they saw that the pansy pin was in her hand.
“I found it right down here!” the girl was saying excitedly. “Where do you s’pose it came from? Oh, it’s just like one my sister had that was stolen by a burglar last winter—why!” as the back of the pin was disclosed, “it is hers! There’s the ‘B’ I scratched one day, and Tip gave me an awful scolding for it! I was going to scratch my whole name, but she caught me too quick—my, didn’t she come at me!”
Harold waited for no more.
“It belongs to my cousin,” he explained. “She just lost it from her sash, and we’ve been hunting everywhere for it.”
He held out his hand for the ornament, but the finder clasped it tightly in her palm.