“I—can’t! It would make you feel bad—awfully bad!”
“Something you did at school? I promise my forgiveness.”
“Oh, no! I haven’t done anything—only told Ilga Barron what I thought of her. And I’m glad I did!”
“That the pudgy girl we met the other day?—the one that didn’t have cloth enough for a decent dress?”
In spite of herself, Polly let go a giggle with her assent. “Why, father,” she remonstrated, “she could have her skirts longer if she wanted to! She’s Senator Barron’s daughter!”
A quiver of laughter stirred the Doctor’s face.
“All right, we’ll let the Senator’s daughter wear her frocks as short as she pleases. But what else has she been doing?”
“She said,” began Polly, “that you—oh, I can’t!” She caught her breath in a sob.
“About me, was it? I see! You’ve been carrying a burden intended for me on your small shoulders, when mine are broad enough to bear a whole pack of abuse! Drop the load at once, Thistledown!”
Despite his tender humor, Polly detected in his voice a note of command, and she strove to obey.