"Yes," the Colonel agreed, "that would be the best thing in such a case—though perhaps this Bessie deserved the whipping."
"No, she did n't!" Polly assured him.
"Well, now, I'll tell you," he went on confidentially, "if anybody ever lays a finger on you, just you come to my house, and I'll see that you are treated all right. Remember that now!"
Polly chuckled a "thank you," and Colonel Gresham began talking about the park, the entrance of which they were nearing.
Polly tried to put Aunt Jane from her mind; but the threatened possibilities kept thrusting themselves into the Colonel's merry speeches, until she scarcely comprehended what he was saying. Little by little, however, the beauties of her surroundings overpowered all else, and Aunt Jane was for the time almost forgotten.
The wise men who had planned Forest Park had known better than to try to improve on nature's handiwork, and rocks and ravines, brooks and pools, wooded slopes and ferny tangles, were left practically unchanged. Polly loved birds and flowers and all the scents and sounds of summer fields and woods, and now, as the air came laden with faint perfume, and a carol burst into the stillness, she clasped her little hands together with a soft breath of delight.
Colonel Gresham watcher her in furtive silence. Finally she turned towards him.
"I should think it would make sick people well to come out, here should n't you?"
"Some of them," he nodded.
"I'm going to tell Mrs. Jocelyn all about it. Perhaps it would make her happier if she's come."