"I don't care if she hasn't," retorted Polly vehemently; "she has five of you to coddle her, and you just go there because you like the fun and think it sounds goody. There are enough of you without me, and one of you can take my afternoon, till Alan gets better." "That's just like Polly," said Molly teasingly. "She always has liked boys better than girls." Polly's face flushed. "You know that's not so, Molly! I've done my fair share with Bridget, but now I think it isn't just right to go chasing off after her when we're leaving Alan all alone. If you knew--" Polly checked herself abruptly, then added more quietly, "I'll tell you what, girls, it isn't like Alan to be cross, and if he is, there's some good reason for it, so I think it's our place to find out what's the matter." And turning away, she went into the house, leaving her companions to go on to the hospital discussing, as they walked along, "Polly's last freak." She stopped a moment to speak to Mrs, Hapgood, then ran directly up-stairs and looked in at the partly open door. Alan was half sitting, half lying on the sofa, with his book dropped, face downward, on his knee, and his hands clasped at the back of his head. Too much absorbed in his thoughts to notice her light step, his face was turned away from the door, and he was scowling moodily at a distant corner of the ceiling. "May I come in, or are you making up a poem and don't want to be disturbed?" inquired Polly gaily, pushing the door wide open. The boy started up with quick enthusiasm. "Poll! How jolly of you to come in to see a fellow!" "Then I'm not in the way?" she asked, as she pulled off her coat. "What an idea! I was desperately lonesome, and somehow you always seem to fit in better than the others. Molly teases, and Jessie tires me. Katharine is better, only she's a little given to gushing, and boys don't like that sort of thing, you know," returned Alan frankly. "I'm very glad if I suit you," said Polly, devoutly hoping she could succeed in avoiding the sin of teasing on the one hand, and of sentimentality on the other. "Well, you do," replied Alan, with a heartiness which he did not often show, for he was not much given to direct praise. "You're first-rate company, Poll, and I'd been hoping you'd get time to run in, for it's stupid in the house. I knew you would, when you got round to it." "Oh, Alan, you just make me ashamed!" said Polly contritely. "I ought to have been here before, and 'specially when I was the one to blame for all this, too." "No use crying over spilt milk," answered Alan candidly. "I did think you'd come before this; but you're here now, and so it's all right. I've grown meek and am glad of small favors," he added, with a merry, sidelong glance from his gray eyes.