"Is it about the ring, dear?"
She nodded.
"What have they been saying to you?" he questioned savagely.
"N-nothing to me," she replied. "I—heard—Miss Curtis— and Miss Lucy—talking. Miss Curtis—she thinks I—oh, dear!—she thinks I—took it! You don't think—I—took—"
"No!" thundered the Doctor in so tremendous a voice that it Polly had n't been in such depths of misery she would have laughed outright.
As it was, she caught his hand to her lips, and kissed it, saying, "You scared me!"
"Well, I'm sorry," he smiled; "but you must n't ask me such questions about my Thistledown, if you don't want to hear me roar."
A wee giggle delighted his ears.
"Now that's something like it!" he said. "Don't let's bother any more about that ring. Probably we'll find it to-morrow. If we don't, I'll buy Elsie another."
A faint, uncertain rapping made the physician set Polly gently on her feet, while he opened the door. Nobody was in sight, and he kept on to the main entrance.