“So am I,” confessed Lilith, “if you don’t care for him. I shouldn’t be happy a bit if you did.”
Polly lay awake long after she had put out her light, thinking, thinking. Things with Lilith had gone just as she wanted them to go. If she could only know how David felt! Would he wish to hold her to a promise she had never made? She fell asleep and dreamed that she was being married to him, under an arch of sunflowers! She awoke with a shiver, unutterably thankful that it was a dream.
The next morning a messenger rode up from Overlook with a special-delivery letter for Polly.
She glanced at the envelope, and a frightened look flashed into her face. Upstairs she darted. A few minutes later she sought Lilith—her ready refuge.
“Come right into my room and try to think what we can do!” she demanded.
“What is it?” Lilith was plainly startled as she followed Polly.
“It’s awful!” exclaimed Polly in a hushed voice. “Sardis Merrifield wants to come here and spend his vacation,—two weeks!”
“Goodness! Sardis Merrifield!” Lilith sank back in her rocker, limp with the overpowering news.
“And think of my cookies!” Polly laughed hysterically.
Lilith shook her head in despair. “We can’t have him! Did he telegraph?”