Polly was more disappointed than she at first realized. She was indignant with this brother of the queer name. To think anybody could be so pig-headed as to refuse to believe what her father asserted as truth. If it were only he that would suffer through hot August, instead of sweet, frail little Dolly! He must be an ignorant fellow, this Sardis. Polly said to herself that she would like to tell him what she thought. It wouldn’t be very flattering to his judgment. She wondered if she could induce him to be sensible if she should write herself; but finally she decided to wait.
Nearly a week passed, but no word came from the little far-away New Hampshire town to the Children’s House of Joy. At last Polly was so anxious that two days before the morning of starting for Overlook she drove out to Prattsboro.
Mrs. Edmonson had received no answer to her letter. Perhaps Sardis had been too busy to go to the post-office, his aunt thought likely. He lived quite a distance from the center, she said. She did not appear to be much disturbed; but little Dolly looked whiter and wispier than ever. Polly’s heart ached to see her.
“It won’t make any difference whether we hear or not,” Mrs. Edmonson said dully. “I know Sardis well enough to know he would not do anything about it. So don’t let it change your plans in the least. I may get a letter to-morrow. He’ll answer—he always does.”
Polly drove sadly home and told her father the disappointing news.
He was sorry and said so. “Probably,” he added, “the child won’t live through the summer if she stays here.”
Polly went back to her duties, almost wishing that she had never seen Dolly Merrifield.
The next day went its hot, lagging way, and Paradise Ward prepared for an early morning start. Polly put her little folks to bed early, and when they were asleep she went downstairs, leaving a young nurse in charge.
“No message from Prattsboro, I suppose,” she said to her mother.
“Not a word. It is too bad.”