Up the sidewalk strolled a lad, "Foolish Joe" people called him, and he was, as usual, accompanied by a little band of fun-loving, teasing boys. In a moment they were gone; but the shambling central figure with its vacant face stayed with her to accentuate her distress. She leaned her head upon her arm, but she could not shut out the picture. Ilga's sneering phrases rang back and forth in her brain, until clear thought was impossible. "Lucy! Polly! Are you up there?" She had not heard any one come in, and she started at sound of her father's voice. Instead of answering she shrank back into her chair, involuntarily delaying the moment of meeting. Dr. Dudley was mounting the stairs, two steps at a time. "Well!" His tall figure filled the doorway. "Where is your mother?" "I--don't know," Polly faltered. "She's gone out--the door was locked--maybe with Miss Curtis. Miss Curtis was here to dinner." "Was she!" And then, "I am going down to Linwood, and I thought you folks would like the ride. We shall have to go alone, shan't we?" Polly did not look up,--perhaps could not would be nearer the truth; but she rose instantly. The Doctor took a step forward, and tilted her chin upon his finger. In spite of her efforts to smile, her lip quivered. "You and David been having a quarrel?" he asked whimsically. "Oh, no, we never do!" "Perhaps you missed a word in spelling?" She shook her head, with a sober "No." "Geography, then?" "Yes, I made a mistake," she admitted. "I wouldn't worry over that." "No, oh, no!" "Then that isn't it? How long are you going to keep me guessing?" She hid her face against his coat. "Don't ask me, please!" she begged. "Is it as bad as that?" His tone would usually have sent her off in an amused chuckle; now she was miserably silent, pressing closer into the friendly folds. "If it is an all-afternoon affair, we may as well sit down," and, wheeling about, he took the chair she had just left, drawing her to his knee. "Now let's look at this together, Thistledown. Two heads ought to be wiser than one, you know. Just give me a chance to show my skill at helping." "I--can't! It would make you feel bad--awfully bad!" "Something you did at school? I promise my forgiveness." "Oh, no! I haven't done anything--only told Ilga Barron what I thought of her. And I'm glad I did!" "That the pudgy girl we met the other day?--the one that didn't have cloth enough for a decent dress?" In spite of herself, Polly let go a giggle with her assent. "Why, father," she remonstrated, "she could have her skirts longer if she wanted to! She's Senator Barron's daughter!" A quiver of laughter stirred the Doctor's face. "All right, we'll let the Senator's daughter wear her frocks as short as she pleases. But what else has she been doing?" "She said," began Polly, "that you--oh, I can't!" She caught her breath in a sob.