“Then it is all right,” Polly exclaimed. “I thought you’d fill the position better than anybody else—”
“Oh, Miss Dudley, you are too flattering.”
“No, it is true. The children just adore you.”
“Oh!”
“Yes,” Polly went on, “I told father I thought you’d be the very best one to go with us, and he agreed with me. I didn’t know but he had seen you already.”
“I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion,” he replied, his face still aflush. “How soon are you going?” he added.
“As soon as we can get ready. It may be lonely for you,” she suggested. “It is miles away from anybody, except a few farmers along the side of the mountain, and you feel farther off than you really are, because only one farmhouse is in sight.”
“I could never be lonely, Miss Dudley, never,” he assured her. “I am certain I shall love it all.” His blush deepened as he let slip the word.
“That’s jolly,” Polly smiled. “It was the only thing I was afraid of. I am so glad you aren’t that kind. I think the sunsets up there—yes, and the sunrises—must be magnificent. And the air! If you have never been up on a Vermont mountain you can have scarcely any idea of the wonderful air. I am sure it will do the children no end of good.”
Of course, Dr. Abbe thought just as Polly did, and they soon parted, the girl to forget all about the young physician, and Dr. Abbe to wonder if his good fortune were really true or if he were dreaming.