"I was looking for you," he said. "Don't you want to take that ride you missed this morning? I have a call to go down to Linwood, and it is just cool enough now to be pleasant. Better put on your coat; your dress is thin."
"Could n't you—take Elsie?" faltered Polly faintly.
"Elsie? Well, Thistledown, I feel hurt! Twice in one day! Have you sworn off from auto riding?"
Usually this would have brought out a happy laugh, but now Polly merely answered, "No," very soberly.
"I should n't dare to risk a ride for Elsie until her hip is better," the Doctor resumed. "I'll try to taker her some day, when she is a little further along. Now, run and get you hat. I'll wait for you."
Polly never quite forgot that ride. The fresh, twilight air, fragrant with dewy blossoms; the exhilarating motion; the Doctor's merry speeches;—these would have been sufficient at any other time to fill her with joy. Now she was but half conscious of them all; the dreadful ache in her heart over-powered everything else. She wondered if Dr. Dudley felt as Miss Lucy did. Or did he, with Miss Curtis, suspect her to be—a thief! She longed to cry out, "Oh, I did n't! I did n't! I did n'!" But, instead, she silently stared out on the dusky road, and wished herself at home, in her own little bed where she could let the tears come, and not have to push them back.
She was glad, in a vague kind of way, when the auto slowed up at the hospital entrance, and the Doctor lifted her out. They walked up the flagging, hand in hand, the physician as silent as she. She would have gone directly upstairs, but he drew her into his office.
"Now, what is it, Thistledown?" he asked gently, taking her in his arms.
She hid her face on his shoulder, and began to sob.
He let the tears have their way for a time, resting his cheek lightly on her curls. Finally he spoke again.