“But how seldom I can have it,” argued Polly. “And those children need the rides every day. If you could have seen them this afternoon!” She stopped—waiting.
The Doctor sat back in his chair and studied the pattern of the tablecloth. The eyes of both women were on his face.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “I don’t like the idea of your cutting into that little sum. You know what I have saved it for, Polly.”
The girl’s face flushed. “I know, father.” She faced him with steady eyes. “There’s no use keeping it for that. I shall never marry.”
“Nonsense, child! you will marry a good deal sooner than I shall wish, but—I’ll think it over.”
The door had scarcely shut upon the Doctor before Polly clapped her hands softly.
“Father’s ‘I’ll think it over’ is every bit as good as a straight-out yes.”
“Polly, I don’t want you to have a car if you must drive it yourself.”
“Why, mother dear, it isn’t anything to run one now.”
“Not simply to run it. In case of emergencies, however, one must possess nerves that are under perfect control.”