'But Polly is so fond of Roy,' pleaded Olive; timid with regard to herself, she could persist with more boldness on another's behalf. 'Roy would not care for me half so much as he would for her; when he had that feverish cold last year, no one seemed to please him but Polly. Do let her go, Aunt Milly,' continued the generous-hearted girl. 'I do not mind being left. If Roy is worse I could come to you,' and Olive spoke with the curious choke in her voice that showed strong emotion.
Mildred looked touched, but she remained firm. Little did Olive guess her reasons.
'I could not allow it for one moment, Olive. I think,' hesitating a little, as though sure of inflicting pain, 'that I ought to go alone, unless Roy is very ill. I do not see how your father is to be left; he might have another attack, and Richard is not here.'
'I forgot papa,' in a conscience-stricken tone. 'I am always forgetting something.'
'Yes, and yourself in the bargain,' smiling at her earnest self-depreciation.
'No, please don't laugh, Aunt Milly, it was dreadfully careless of me—what should we all do without you to remind us of things? Of course papa must be my first thought, unless—unless dear Rex is very ill,' and a flush of pain passed over Olive's sallow face.
Mildred melted over this fresh instance of Olive's unselfish goodness; she wrapped her arms fondly round the girl.
'Dear Olive, this is so good of you!'
'No, it is only my duty,' but the tears started to her eyes.
'If I did not think it were, I would not have proposed it,' she returned, reluctantly; 'but you know how little care your father takes of himself, and then he will fret so about Roy when Richard is away. I never like to leave him.'