Having arrived at his home, Tom rebelled against being kept quiet that day. "Goodness' sakes, mother! any one would think I was an invalid. Why, I feel better than I have in months!" and his happy gayety attested to his spirits. But no one knew that he was joyous because Polly had kissed him that morning. And he was sure that that _something_ he had detected in her eyes, was the awakening of love, instead of the fervent gratitude it really was. Tom could not settle down to do anything that day, but he called John up on the 'phone several times to ask about Polly. John patiently replied each time, that Polly was fast asleep and would probably remain so, for several hours more, because she required it. When Tom asked if he had better come down that evening and call, John was most emphatic in his refusal. But the following day, Tom kept telephoning the Brewsters every little while and Anne finally capitulated and invited him to call that evening. Polly was fully recovered again, with no signs of the shock or soaking she had received; so, when Tom was announced by the telephone girl in the hotel office, she felt no undue nervousness. "Anne, you are going to help entertain Tom, aren't you?" said she, casually patting her hair down neatly. Anne looked at her sister-in-law with an amused smile. "If you think you will need a chaperone when such an old friend calls. Tom always seems more like a brother than a young man who might turn out to be a beau, some day." Polly pondered this sentence for a time, then said: "Well, there's no telling what he may think after that ducking, you know, so it will be more comfortable to have you about." Tom fully expected a warm welcome from Polly, and perhaps, another flash of something akin to love that he thought he had detected in her deep blue eyes, when he met her in the hospital. So he was more than chagrined to find Polly smile friendily upon him as she took his hand in the same manner that she would have taken Mr. Dalken's. "I just thought I would bring in a little glow with me, Polly," remarked Tom, when he recovered self-possession again. "A few roses, such as I know you like." He handed a long box to Polly and watched eagerly as she cut the string and opened the lid of the box. "Oh, Tom! American Beauties again! How lovely!" and she buried her face in the fragrant red petals that filled the one end of the box. Anne held out her hand for the box when Polly went to place it on a chair. "I'll hand them to mother, Polly, for her to arrange in a jar. The others that came yesterday, can be placed in another glass." "Oh, did Polly receive other roses?" asked Tom, trying to appear unconcerned, but flushing as he spoke. "Why, didn't you send them to me? There was no card in the box, but you always send American Beauties, Tom," exclaimed Polly, in surprise.