At the start the little girl smiled into Polly’s eyes in happy forgetfulness of her failure in duty until suddenly memory asserted itself. Then she hid her face in her little hands and broke into a wailing cry. “Oh, Miss Dudley, I forgot! I forgot! I never did think of it till this minute! I told that sweet young man I would give it to you, and now I don’t know where it is. Oh, Miss Dudley!” “Hush, dear,” said Polly soothingly. “It isn’t of the least consequence. I think it is not lost, and if it is, I shall not shed a single tear. Don’t cry another bit.” The child continued to sob, while Polly, with her usual practicality, went on:-- “You were playing with your paper dolls that morning, weren’t you?” “Yes, Miss Dudley--the beautiful ones--that the Butterfly Lady gave us.” Polly went to the cupboard where they were kept and looked through the envelopes. The note was not among the dolls. “Do you remember what you wore that day?” Esther reflected. “I think I had on my blue gingham and the white pinafore that goes with it.” Polly examined Esther’s wardrobe, but did not see the white “pinafore.” Then she went to the big laundry hamper and looked over the clothes. The missing apron soon was in her hands, and down in the depths of the little pocket was the note. Esther smiled wanly when she saw it, and began to cry. “I want to tell you a secret,” said Polly. “You’ll promise not to repeat it to anybody?” Then said Polly, “I am glad you forgot! I would a great deal rather have the note now than when it was given you.” Esther looked at her doubtingly. “Glad?” she queried. “Yes, really and truly glad,” laughed Polly. “Now go and play and forget all about it.” “And I needn’t feel sorry?” questioned the little girl. “No, you are to be glad, too.” Esther smiled and flung her arms about Polly’s neck, whispering, “You are the nicest lady that ever was!” Alone with the note, Polly did not open it at once. She sat still with her own thoughts. Finally she unfolded the paper, and read:-- DEAR POLLY: I must see you alone, and somebody is always tagging you round. Please arrange your work so as to meet me up in the grove this evening. I shall be there directly after tea. Sincerely DAVID Polly looked away to the far distant hills--wondering about David. What did he come for? What had he to say to her? Would it have been better if she had let him talk with her, as he wished--as Nita had suggested? No, she could not! She knew well enough what it would have led to. She shook her head, and a shiver ran over her--anything but _that_! Yes, she had done right. Rosalind Ferne improved daily, and the gain was not microscopic. Even Benedicta spoke of it. “That Ferne kid’s comin’ up,” she said. “Isn’t she!” exulted Polly. “She’ll never walk,” the housekeeper went on, “it’s against nature; but she’ll get stronger and healthier. She won’t go through life so puny.” “Or crooked,” added Polly.