“Poor Ilga!” mourned Polly. “While I was having such a splendid time she was feeling so bad! I’ll go to see her right away, and tell her all about my visit. Perhaps that will help her to forget.”
So Polly found her work waiting for her, and she took it up with her usual readiness; but it was hard to settle into the regular school routine after the exciting whirl of that gay fortnight. Cards had come from Floyd and Harold, but the absence of the latter when she left them was not even mentioned. This she could not understand, for she had expected an apology as the very least amends he could make. Taken altogether such rudeness seemed to Polly unpardonable, after Harold’s protested affection. Still his message was as warm-hearted and loving as ever, and she wisely tried to put the matter aside as one of the things that could not be explained away.
When she had been at home a week, and New York was beginning to fade into the past, she returned from afternoon school to find nobody in sight as she entered the back door. Quietly she went through the house, and hearing voices in the library she halted to ascertain if there were company. A few words arrested her.
“It is a shame for you to have to do so much for so little,” Mrs. Dudley was saying.
The Doctor laughed softly. Polly could almost hear his eyes twinkle.
“You, too!” he retorted.
“Nonsense!” she protested; “all I’m doing is to try to keep the household expenses down as low as possible.”
“And that is the main thing. You have done admirably. I hoped we could be out of pinch before long—and now this cut-down in salary!”
“Never mind! we shall get on all right,” came in Mrs. Dudley’s cheery tones.
“Of course,” the Doctor agreed; “but it means too much scrimp for you. It is what I did not anticipate. If I had more time for outside practice”—he stopped, as if musing. “And if it weren’t for the coal bill!”