"Here—here's Polly!" cried Jasper's voice. And at the same moment in sped little Dr. Fisher, his glasses shining with determination, as he gazed all over the room for Polly.
"My dear, dear child," he cried, as he spied her.
And "Papa Fisher!" joyfully from Polly, as she sprang from Mrs. Higby's ottoman, and precipitated herself into the little doctor's arms.
"Softly, softly, child," he warned; "you'll hurt it," tenderly covering the poor arm with his right hand, while he fumbled in his pocket with the other, for his handkerchief. "Dear me!" and he blew his nose violently. "Yes; well, you're sure you're all right except this?" and he held Polly at arm's length and scanned her closely.
"I am all right if you will only tell me that Mamsie is well, and isn't worried about us," said Polly, an anxious little pucker coming on her forehead.
"Your mother is as bright as a button," declared Father Fisher emphatically.
"Come, come!" ejaculated Mr. King, appearing in the doorway; "this isn't just the way to take possession of Mr. Loughead's apartment. Jasper, I don't see what you were thinking of. Come, Fisher, my room is next; this way."
Polly blushed red as a rose as old Mr. Loughead said briskly, "Oh! I sent for her to cheer me up, and now, I wish you'd all stay."
"Beg pardon for this inroad," said little Doctor Fisher, going up to the old gentleman's chair and offering his hand. "Well, well, Loughead," to Jack, "this is a surprise party all round!"
"No inroad at all, at least a pleasant one," old Mr. Loughead kept saying, while Polly ran up to Jasper: