“I knew a boy who took care of furnaces; but cooking is ever so much better. And you do know how to cook!” Polly wagged her head in approval.
“It is well you think so,” he replied; “seeing you have to eat the cooking.”
“By the way,” he went on, “my sub-conscious mind has just notified me of a neglected duty. While you were down in Overlook this forenoon Mr. Wheatley came to see his little granddaughter. He rode up with the grocer.”
“Oh, did he!” cried Polly. “Rosalind must have been delighted.”
“Yes, but you should have seen her grandfather. He was almost beside himself to find how much she had improved. Is she really expected to walk at the end of two years?”
“Father thinks she will.”
There was a moment of tense silence.
Then the man asked, in lowered tone, “Has Dr. Dudley ever said whether there was any chance for Dorothy?”
This was what Polly had dreaded the first time he was at Overlook; but he had not asked the question. Now it had come. She could not bear to hurt him. Her eyes misted, and she looked away.
“Yes,” she answered slowly, “he told me that before he saw her he thought there might be help; afterwards—”