“Coming,” said Polly. She reached over, and put her arms around Mrs. Sandy’s throat, and pressed her cheek to hers. “I’m sorry for both of you, dear Mrs. Sandy,” she whispered. “Have you tried writing to her?”
“She never replies to my letters. I am afraid there’s nothing that can be done, Polly child.”
“I know what I’d do,” said Polly, resolutely, as she reached for her hat. “I’d just get on a train, and go down home, and go straight up to the Hall, and when I saw her, I’d hug her before she knew what was happening, and I’d shake her too, a little bit, and kiss her, and say, ‘Hello, Honoria.’ That’s what I’d do.”
Mrs. Sandy laughed heartily at the mental picture of her accosting the stately Honoria in such a fashion after thirty-five years, but Polly was serious in her intent.
“It would settle the whole thing, Mrs. Sandy, dear, I am sure it would, and grandfather and I’d be delighted to have you and the Chief at Glenwood with us too.”
“Oh, Polly, do you realize what the trip would cost? Sandy would have to sell off some of his thoroughbreds, wouldn’t he?”
“Why not take the money that will come from the bones in Zed’s gulch, and make it a second honeymoon trip?” asked Polly. “Don’t laugh at me, please. I know it’s only another air-castle, but let’s keep hoping.”
“All right, child,” promised Mrs. Sandy, as she kissed her good-bye. “I’ll keep hoping.”
CHAPTER XXII
SAFE CONVOY