“She’s right,” he asserted, addressing himself to Polly. “Father’s going to sell the place.”
“Oh! is that what you call our house?” queried Polly, beginning to understand. “Does your father own it?”
Gustave nodded. “Mother named it from the Lady Gay roses on the piazzas,” he explained. “Wait till June, and you’ll see!”
“I remember them last summer,” Polly smiled. “They were lovely—all pink and white, but I didn’t know their name.”
“You’ll have to go back to the hospital to live, shan’t you?” questioned Ilga curiously.
“I don’t know,” Polly answered. Her face held a bit of anxiety as she moved away.
This piece of news was the foremost topic at the Dudley dinner-table. Polly saw that her father and mother were disturbed by it. Although the Doctor made little jests, the laughter sometimes seemed forced, and occasionally talk would flag. There was no other rented house in the neighborhood, and Dr. Dudley must live in the immediate vicinity of the hospital to retain his position there. This Polly gathered from what passed between her father and mother, and she returned to school in no mood for study or play. Later a thought came which she felt sure would solve the problem. It was not until after tea that she made the proposition.
“Father,” she began, atilt on the arm of his chair, “should you like to buy this house yourself?”