Polly was talking fast and eagerly about the exciting events of her visit, when she thought of the money in her purse.
“Oh, I forgot!” she broke off, and dived into her little hand-bag.
“There,” she said, her voice low and tense, “is the money to pay the coal bill! Mrs. Illingworth—I mean Patricia—gave it to me for going with her.”
“But, Thistledown,” objected the Doctor whimsically, “that coal bill was paid long ago,—besides—”
“Oh, dear,” she broke in, “I wanted to pay it myself! I wanted to help you!” She hid her face against his coat. “I wouldn’t have gone only for that. Patty said she’d give me fifty dollars if I would.”
In a flash Dr. Dudley saw it all,—her sudden turn regarding the summer trip, her brave fight with homesickness. Involuntarily his arms tightened around her. Must he make her feel that her sacrifice had been in vain?
“You say that Patricia gave you the money when you came away?”
“No, father, it was Mrs. Illingworth that gave it to me—this morning. She said it was a present from both of them. But Patty had promised it to me.”
“I understand. Well, there are other ways, Thistledown, where your money can help, if you wish. You know we have not used our ‘wedding’ car for a good while, because I haven’t been able to spare enough for a needed tire. Now, if you like, you shall buy the new tire, and then we will have some rides. How will that do?”