“Oh, I don’t care!” Bertha returned. “I’m used to it. But I hate to apologize—that’s the worst of doing things. Good-bye!”
Polly ran to find Harold, to share with him her joy in the restored pin; but the lad was not to be seen. Nor did he appear to bid her good-bye, although she lingered to search for him until she came near missing her train. What could have happened? Fear haunted her all the way home.
CHAPTER XV
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST
One of Polly’s first questions on her return was of Ilga Barron. If she had not been so over-occupied while in New York, the fact that not a word was written her of Ilga would have given her great concern. As it was she had had only time for brief surprise on receipt of letter or card; then it would slip from her mind. But now she eagerly awaited her mother’s answer. It was slow in coming, and then was accompanied by an ominous shake of the head.
“Ilga’s party day ended sadly. Her first few steps were such a joy that she forgot herself, and started on with a skip. Her foot caught—”
“Oh!” cried Polly in consternation, “did she fall?”
Mrs. Dudley nodded, hastening to say, “Your father thinks she will come out all right in time, but there will have to be a long waiting. She realizes it is her own fault, for Miss Price warned her to be careful; but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”