Polly shook her head. “I think it is just the work that the right kind of woman would like. Take my mother, for instance--you know she used to be a nurse before her marriage--why, she couldn’t be contented a day if she were not helping somebody somewhere. A life of pleasure cannot satisfy the earnest, thoughtful girl of to-day. She craves her share of the world’s work, she wants to see some little spot grow better and happier under her hands.” “Then, you would advise me to accept the offer?” “I should think you would not hesitate one moment, since you are sure that it is just what you would like best.” “Thank you; I wanted your opinion. This proposal is not wholly unexpected. Last spring Waite practically said that they should want me as soon as the church was finished; but the word came earlier than I looked for it. The building will not be ready before next summer, and I have one more year of study in New Haven.” The talk fell to other matters, and they walked on and on until they were near the bungalows on the other part of the mountain. A girl came out from the Robinson house, and Polly recognized Sally. “I thought it was you,” she said as they met. “Father has just come up from Overlook and brought your mail with ours. I was going to run over with it.” “Oh, a letter and paper from mother!” cried Polly joyfully, scanning the superscriptions by the light of the moon. “Thank you. Benedicta brought some mail this afternoon, but nothing for me. I always miss mother’s letters if they don’t come on the regular days.” The others were on the veranda when they returned, and Polly excused herself to read her letter. Upstairs, standing by the lamp, she tore open the envelope. As she read, her eyes widened and she dropped limply into the nearest chair. She reached for the newspaper which had slipped to the floor and slitted the wrapper with unsteady fingers. Glancing hurriedly over it her eyes rested on a marked paragraph near the middle of the third page. Quickly she read it through, and then read it again. She was still sitting there when she heard footfalls on the stairs. “Lilith!” she called, and the girl came in. Polly thrust the paper towards her, pointing to the article. Lilith glanced at Polly first and was startled at her face. It was colorless with a dazed expression; but it told of neither grief nor trouble. Her eyes came back to the printed page, and she read:-- Mrs. Marion Winifred Stuart, of Richmond, Virginia, announces the engagement of her daughter, Valorie Lynde Stuart, to Mr. David Gresham Collins, son of Mrs. Eva Gresham Collins, and grandnephew of David Gresham, of Fair Harbor, Connecticut. Polly smiled. “Do-don’t you--care?” whispered Lilith. “I want to shout ‘Halleluiah!’ at the top of my voice!” “Polly Dudley!” “I do! I feel so deliciously light--I may fly away!” Lilith looked into the sparkling eyes and believed her.