Polly hesitated. She was not at all sure that Dr. Dudley would wish her to disclose the wanderings of the Colonel's mind, since he had not done so himself. But there seemed no other way, so she replied simply:—
"Oh, you did n't say much! Only you kept calling for Eva, and so I pretended I was she, and I called you Uncle David. And you heard the rain, and thought it was dripping on your head, and you wanted me to hold my hand up to catch it. That was about all."
Polly cast furtive glances at the Colonel. She could make nothing of his face, beyond that it was very grave. She wondered if he were displeased with her.
After a time he spoke.
"You have done me a kindness that can never be repaid. Such debts cannot be balanced with money. So we won't talk about pay. But I should like to do something for you—give you a sort of remembrance. I don't know what would make you happiest; but you may chose, 'to the half of my kingdom'—anything but Lone Star. I'm afraid I should hate to give up Lone Star!"
Polly laughed, and the Colonel laughed too, which put the talk on a cheery footing, and she assured him that she should n't have chosen Lone Star anyway, because she did n't know how to take care of a horse, and had n't any place to keep him in.
Then her face grew suddenly serious, and she sat gazing at the pattern of the rug so long that Colonel Gresham smiled to himself.
"Is it too much of a problem?" he finally asked. "Can't you think of anything within my power that would give you a little happiness?"
"Oh, yes!" Polly answered quickly; "but I'm afraid—" she stopped.
"Afraid of what?" he questioned.