Polly started, and turned to see the lady who had made way for her standing beside her. The lady smiled reassuringly as she met Polly's perplexed glance, and said again,—
"What is it? Tell me."
And Polly, looking up into the kind sweet face, told the whole story,—all about the long saving for the little paint-box, Jane's valentine, and everything, winding up eagerly with the appeal,—"And wouldn't you buy the paint-box now 'stead of the valentine, 'cos the paint-box mebbe'll be gone when I get more money?"
"Wouldn't I? Well, I don't know what I should have done when I was a little girl like you. I dare say, though, that I should have felt just as you do—have done just as you, I see, are going to do now."
"Bought the paint-box!" cried Polly.
"Yes, bought the paint-box," laughed the lady.
Polly beamed with smiles, and gave a rapturous look at the treasure that was so soon to be hers. But presently the rapture faded, and a new expression came into her face. The lady was watching her very attentively.
"Well, what now?" she inquired. "Doesn't the paint-box suit you?"
Polly gave an emphatic nod. Perhaps it was that nod that sent two little tears to her eyes.
"Then, if it suits you, shall I speak to the clerk, and tell him you've changed your mind about the valentine, and will buy the paint-box?"