“Let me tell you—then you won’t wonder I’m grave.”
“I’ll let you all right,” Polly chuckled.
David was too seriously troubled to notice.
“It is this way,” he went on; “you know how Uncle David has always taken us to ride after supper, either mamma or me alone, or both in the surrey—he has ever since it was mild enough.”
“Why, yes, I’ve gone with you lots of times.”
“And now he takes somebody else—a lady, nearly every night!”
“It is too bad,” Polly returned plaintively. “We’d love to have you go with us, if we could only go ourselves; but father can’t get away, and—”
“Oh, I don’t mean that!” David burst out. “It isn’t because we’re so anxious for a drive; but, Polly, don’t you see? If Uncle David is taking a lady out every night, it means something!”
“What does it mean?” queried Polly in a puzzled voice.