Mrs. Cabot sank into her husband's deserted chair, unable to find a word.
CHAPTER XII.
POLLY TRIES TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT.
"O, Pickering!" Polly actually ran into the drawing-room with outstretched hands. "Why did Jencks put you in here?"
"I asked to come in here," said Pickering. "I don't want to see a lot of people to-night; I only want you, Polly."
"But Mamsie could help you—she'd know the right thing to say to you," said Polly.
"No, no!" cried Pickering in alarm, and edging off into a corner. "Do sit down, Polly, I—I want to talk to you."
So Polly sat down, her eyes fastened on his face, and wishing all the while that Mamsie would come in.
"I don't wonder you think I'm in a bad way," began Pickering nervously; "it was awfully good in you to send for me, Polly, awfully."
"Why, I couldn't help it," said Polly. "You know it's just like having one of the boys in trouble, to have you worried, Pickering."