For a moment nobody spoke, and then Maud’s voice broke the silence. “Won’t you please sing ‘Darby and Joan’?” she inquired in a rather sleepy little voice. Maud was only seven, and she had not found Miss Polly’s reminiscences quite so absorbing as her elder sisters had done. “To be sure I will,” said Miss Polly, and in a moment she had pushed the wheel-chair across the room to the piano. Then followed a very pleasant half-hour. Miss Polly sang all their favorite ballads, greatly to everybody’s enjoyment, especially Maud’s. The little girl quite forgot that she was sleepy, and stood by the piano, drinking in every note, and looking so happy that Miss Polly regarded her with growing interest. “You love music, don’t you, dear?” she asked, kindly, at the close of “Twickenham Ferry.” “Oh, yes,” said Maud, eagerly; “I love it when I’m on the other side of the wall, but I love it even better when I’m on this side.” Everybody laughed, and then Daisy looked at the clock, and rose reluctantly. “I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said, “but I’m afraid we ought to go. It’s nearly half-past eight, and Grandma always sends us to bed at eight.” Miss Polly looked sorry, but made no objections. “You must do as your grandmother wishes,” she said, “but I hope you will be able to come again very soon.” “Oh, we will, we will,” promised the four little girls, and then, to every one’s surprise, Maud--who was not usually a demonstrative child--suddenly lifted her face and kissed the little lady in the wheel-chair. Miss Polly fairly beamed with pleasure, and yet there were tears in her eyes, too, as she returned Maud’s kiss. “You dear little girl!” she exclaimed, a trifle unsteadily. “Why, no one has kissed me since--oh, not in ever so long, and it’s so very sweet to be loved.” “May we kiss you too?” inquired Dulcie, impulsively. Miss Polly held out her arms. “Indeed you may,” she said, heartily. “You have given me a beautiful evening, and it will be quite an exciting story to write Tom next Sunday, how four dear little neighbors came to see me, through a mysterious door in a wall.” “I can’t help whether Grandma would approve or not,” said Dulcie, when they were back in the nursery. “I am sure Papa and Mamma would want us to go and see that poor dear little Miss Polly just as often as we could. And, after all, Papa is the person we have to mind.” “He’ll know all about it when he gets my letter,” said Daisy, in a tone of satisfaction. “I think we might write Uncle Stephen and Miss Leslie about it, too; I’m sure they would be interested, and they would never tell Grandma. I know Miss Polly must be a very lovely Christian, even if she doesn’t tell her brother every bit of the truth. Just think of having to stay in one room all the time, and never being able to get out of a wheel-chair. Nobody else could bear it as she does. I’m quite sure it’s our duty to go and see her.” “I don’t know which I like best, Miss Leslie or Miss Polly,” remarked Molly, reflectively.