“Oh, you needn’t worry about that!” comforted Polly. “We can take Dolly another time, you know. Tell me about her. Who is she?” “Why, she’s Dolly Merrifield! An’--oh, she’s the sweetest little thing you ever saw! She’s got the _littlest_ legs--just like our baby’s! An’ she don’t _never_ walk! She don’t never _stand up_! An’ she don’t cry nor nothin’, ’cept when the lady didn’t come to take her to ride--then she did, good an’ hard. Oh, that lady’s just as mean! I wish _she_ had to sit in a chair all day long, ’ithout anything to do, an’ be all alone, an’ never go to ride in all her life--so there!” The animated face had grown red and scowly during the utterance of this bitter wish. Now it unexpectedly broke into a delighted grin. “Did yer honest mean for sure you’d take Dolly to ride?” “Yes, ‘honest, for sure,’” laughed Polly. “Well, I hope the lady’ll see her,” the child resumed. “_She_ goes to ride every day--two or three times a day! She used to be real pretty; but I don’t take no stock in her now--her a-promisin’ Dolly--an’ Dolly a-waitin’ an’ a-waitin’--an’ her never comin’! Dolly wored her eyes out watchin’ for her--Mis’ Edmonson said she had. Oh, I jus’ hope she will see Dolly when you take her--then I guess!” The small head was brought down decidedly. “You haven’t told me your name yet,” Polly smiled. “Oh, my name is Gladys Guinevere Evangeline Smith! But you needn’t go through all that rigmarole, you can call me Gay; everybody does. An’ ter think of me a-ridin’!” As the car stopped in front of Gladys Guinevere’s home it found itself the center of a crowd of girls and boys, mothers and babies, with an occasional lounger who quite casually started to walk across the street in front of the machine and quite as casually stopped on the outside of the circle. Polly was many times obliged to reiterate her promise to take “Dolly” to ride; but at last all the questions had been asked and answered and all the “thank-you’s” and “good-byes” had been said. Then, amid the scattering onlookers, with much waving of hands on both sides, the car rolled away. CHAPTER VIII COUCHES OF CLOVER For a whole week Dr. Dudley’s automobile was active in professional work; then word was brought Polly that the car would be at her disposal for three hours that afternoon. Her plans were already made, and as soon as her morning tasks were completed, leaving her mother in charge of Paradise Ward, Polly started on her way to Prattsboro and Dolly Merrifield. The little girl was at the window. “Come in!” she called when Polly lifted the old brass knocker. The broad kitchen was alive with sunshine, but the bareness of the big room struck the girl disagreeably as she opened the door. At first the child at the window was not visible. Then a winsome little voice said, “Aunt Sophie isn’t home.” Polly peeped around the door, and smiled. “I want to see Miss Dolly Merrifield,” she said. “Oh! me?” exclaimed the little voice.