“You see,” she explained, “I’m afraid Sardis wouldn’t hear to letting her go so far with strangers. Of course,” she hastened to add, “I’d be willing enough; it might do her no end of good. But Sardis, he is so afraid something will happen to her. It’s nice of you to want to take her, and I’ll write him to-day; though I haven’t much hope he’ll let her go.”
As for Dolly herself, she sat in her cushioned chair, eager-eyed at first, but disappointed as she listened to her aunt’s objections.
“Why, Aunt Sophie,” she once ventured to pipe, in her tired little voice, “I do guess it would make me ’most well, same as Miss Dudley says. I know I could coax Sardis to say yes, if I only had him here.”
“I don’t doubt you could,” returned her aunt with a little laugh; “Sardis would tear the house down and make a bonfire of it if you wanted him to; but he ain’t here, and I don’t know. I expect, though, he’ll be against it, he’s so careful.”
Polly went over and sat down by the little girl before leaving.
“Don’t worry, dear! Maybe Sardis will say yes—who knows!”
“He would if he was some folks,” returned Mrs. Edmonson; “but he isn’t. I know just what his answer will be.”
The brightness which had come into Dolly’s face vanished and left it listless and dull.
Aunt Sophie, also, grew sad.
“I hated to say that,” she whispered to Polly as she stood on the doorstep; “but I couldn’t let her go on hoping and hoping, as I was afraid she would. I wish she could go; but Sardis, though he’s smart as all creation, acts kind o’ foolish sometimes. I’ll let you know soon ’s I hear. I can telephone from the grocery store.”