"I had to come, Miss Polly," Richard Hunt announced at last.
Polly motioned to a chair near by. "You were good—to trouble," she returned slowly. "It has been four months since I saw you last and asked you to come; and since then I have very nearly died."
Then she smiled and held out her hand with the utmost friendliness.
"Forgive me," she begged. "I am glad to see you at any time. I am afraid I am behaving like the preacher who reproaches the members of his congregation for not doing their duty and attending service on the very Sundays when they have shown up."
But Richard Hunt would not be frivolous.
"Have you wanted to see me?" he asked gravely.
Polly nodded.
"Then why didn't you write or have some one tell me? I would have come across the world if I had known," he replied.
In return Polly shrugged her shoulders. "I did everything I could when we were in Colorado to persuade you to be friends with me again. I behaved without the least pride; I almost begged you to be kind to me. Of course you were very nice then and interested in Bobbin, but I could not go on forever pleading for your friendship. Still I thought at least when you heard I was ill that you might be sorry."
Then to her own complete chagrin Polly felt her eyes filling with tears.