The next evening is Friday, and Pollypod and her mother have tea with Lily and her grandfather. Pollypod, of course, is engrossed by one subject. She has the fullest faith in Felix, but as the end of the week is very near, she is very curious about the Captain. She wants to know so much--what a Captain is like; how the Captain will find the house; whether the Captain will know her, and know that the Doll is for her. Every knock and ring at the street-door makes her heart beat loud and fast, and during the last two days she has tired out her little legs by running up and down-stairs to see if the Captain is at the door. Mrs. Podmore is not so sanguine. She tries to prepare Pollypod for disappointment, but nothing can shake the child's faith. He was the nicest-spoken gentleman (said Mrs. Podmore to Lily, in confidence) that she has ever set eyes on. But Lord love you! he only told Pollypod the story out of the goodness of his heart. He was as good as gold, that he was; the way he carried Pollypod upstairs was a sight to see; but all he wanted to do was to amuse the child, bless him! What did he know of dolls, a gentleman like him? But Mrs. Podmore does not win Lily over to her view of the question, for Pollypod has also made a confidante of Lily, and she in her heart of hearts believes that Felix will make the child a present of a doll. "Not such a handsome one as you say, Polly." says Lily to her; "but a nice one, I daresay." "You'll see--you'll see," is all that Pollypod says in reply. "I wish it was to-morrow! I wish it was to-morrow!" But although she wishes it were to-morrow, she looks out for the Captain to-night, and listens to every footfall on the stairs. But the night passes, and to-morrow comes, and still no Captain. As twilight comes on, Pollypod's excitement is so great that Mrs. Podmore declares she is afraid the child will work herself into a fever. So Lily proposes that Pollypod shall come and sit with her and her grandfather, and Mrs. Podmore consents, all the more willingly because she wants to clean up for Sunday. Pollypod is glad to go down to the first-floor, for she will be nearer to the street door. They sit at the window, the three of them, Polly in Lily's lap, with all her heart in her ear. Knocks come, and rings, but not one of them heralds the Captain or the Doll. Lily believes in the Doll, but not in the Captain; Pollypod believes in both. "If he doesn't come, Polly," says old Wheels, "I'll make you a doll, on wheels." "He's sure to come! he's sure to come!" exclaims Pollypod.