"I see," he mused, as Polly stopped speaking. He was silent a moment. Then he went on.
"Mrs. Jocelyn lost her only child, a beautiful little boy, when he was eight years old. It is not unlikely that this story awakened tender memories."
"I'm sorry I made her feel bad," grieved Polly.
"I would n't be if I were you."
A "Why!" of wonder was rounding Polly's lips, as the physician continued:—
"Perhaps you have done Mrs. Jocelyn more good than you will ever know. Since her husband and little boy died she has shut people out of her life, seldom leaving her home, and rarely entertaining a guest. From what she has said to me I judge that she has allowed herself to brood over her sorrows till she has become bitter and melancholy. Let's hope that your little story will open her eyes."
"Does she live all alone when she is home?" queried Polly.
"Alone with her servants."
"Oh, then she is n't poor! I thought she must be."
Dr. Dudley smilingly shook his head. "She has more money than probably you or I will ever handle, little girl; but we'll have better riches than gold, won't we?"