Polly's eyes showed mild interest, and her uncle proceeded. "I saw a pony awhile ago that I think I can get for you. He is high-priced, but I guess he's worth it. Such a pretty creature! He ate bread and butter and sugar out of my hand." "That's what Lone Star does!" brightened Polly. "Lone Star is Colonel Gresham's beautiful trotter." "I think I've heard of him," observed Mr. Westwood. "Have you?" Polly cried. "Oh, I wish you could see him! He is the most lovelicious horse!" Her uncle laughed. "Well, you can have one just as 'lovelicious' as he is, a second Lone Star, if you like. Oh, how you will love your pony!" "I am not going to have any pony!" was the resolute announcement. "Oh, yes, you are!" he wheedled. "And we'll take him with us when we go to our summer home up the Hudson River. Such a fine time you and the boys will have cantering over the country roads!" For an instant Polly's eyes sparkled over the picture. Then she came back. "Uncle Maurice," she declared, "there isn't a bit of use in your trying to make me want to go and live with you! I wouldn't leave father and mother for a hundred thousand ponies and parties and pink dresses and everything!" She slid from her uncle's arm, and ran over to the Doctor, where she hid her face on his shoulder, breaking into soft sobs. Mrs. Dudley drew her gently away and upstairs. She ended her cry on her mother's breast. When she was called down to bid her uncle good-bye, no mention was made of the subject which had brought the tears, and she thanked him very sweetly for his invitation to visit them sometime in the near future. Yet she watched him drive away in his handsome motor-car with a feeling of relief, and her wave of farewell was accompanied by a radiant smile. CHAPTER XII LITTLE CHRIS Polly dreaded the next meeting with her Cousin Floyd, for she anticipated his disappointment at her decision. But he took the news cheerfully. "Just wait till we get you down to our house!" he laughed. "We'll give you so good a time you'll forget there ever was a Fair Harbor." Polly smiled contentedly. This was so much pleasanter than her uncle's insistence. Yet when his eyes were free to look upon her, his gayety vanished. "So like my mother!" he murmured. "Not the eyes,--hers were blue,--but the mouth and the expression of the face--yes, and the forehead!--they are mother's right over again!" His lips drooped sorrowfully. "You bring her back to me better than a picture. It is a shame," he regretted, "when you belong to us, that we can't have you under our roof!" "I'm sorry," Polly sighed. "I wish I could be in two places." "One would be quite enough," laughed Floyd, "if only that were New York. Oh, come on, Polly! We'll have no end of a good time." She shook her head slowly, the red fluttering on her cheeks. "I can't," she told him; "truly I can't!"