To Polly, with all the love and happy birthday wishes that can be packed into a piano.
From her friend,
Juliet P. Jocelyn.
Polly drew a long breath of joy.
“Isn’t it lovely!” she beamed.
The next minute her fingers were racing over the keys in a musical little waltz.
Early the next morning came David with a “Little Colonel” book for Polly.
“I didn’t know whether to bring it over yesterday or not,” he laughed; “but I finally thought I’d better wait for the intermediate day.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference,” returned Polly, fingering the book admiringly. “Thank you ever and ever so much! I’ve wanted to know more about the ‘Little Colonel.’ But what kind of a day did you call it?”
“Intermediate,” he replied. “Isn’t that right?”