Polly's face was one big interrogation point. "Why! I don't—" she began, but was interrupted by a kiss right on her lips.
"Oh, you dear, precious little innocent!" cried Mrs. Jocelyn. "Read that, and see if it will tell you anything!" She took a strip of paper from the table, and put it into Polly's hand.
Across the top, in large letters, was the name of a back. The rest was partly printed and partly written. Polly read wonderingly:—
Pay to the order of Polly May Three Hundred Dollars.
Juliet P. Jocelyn.
Pay to the order of Polly May Three Hundred Dollars.
Juliet P. Jocelyn.
"O-o-h!" and Polly's face was beautiful in its joy; "does this mean that you're going to give me three hundred dollars to buy some new cots with?"
"It means that the money is your own to use exactly as you please." The little lady was scarcely less excited than the child. Giving was to her almost an untried pleasure.
"Oh, I can't, I can't, I can't thank you enough! It is so lovelicious!" Then Polly threw her arms around the happy donor in a way that would have made her cry out with actual pain if she had not been too delighted to realize it.
"I think that will cover the cost of six or seven cots, equipped for use," said Mrs. Jocelyn,—"that is, if you wish to spend the money for them." The gray eyes actually twinkled.
"Why, of course I do!" cried Polly. "What else could I do with it?"