Dr. Dudley shook his head. “I said nothing of Overlook. Probably they will be glad to have her go; they ought to be. You’d better see Mrs. Edmonson at once. The time is getting short.” Dolly’s aunt did not receive the proposition as gladly as had been expected. “You see,” she explained, “I’m afraid Sardis wouldn’t hear to letting her go so far with strangers. Of course,” she hastened to add, “I’d be willing enough; it might do her no end of good. But Sardis, he is so afraid something will happen to her. It’s nice of you to want to take her, and I’ll write him to-day; though I haven’t much hope he’ll let her go.” As for Dolly herself, she sat in her cushioned chair, eager-eyed at first, but disappointed as she listened to her aunt’s objections. “Why, Aunt Sophie,” she once ventured to pipe, in her tired little voice, “I do guess it would make me ’most well, same as Miss Dudley says. I know I could coax Sardis to say yes, if I only had him here.” “I don’t doubt you could,” returned her aunt with a little laugh; “Sardis would tear the house down and make a bonfire of it if you wanted him to; but he ain’t here, and I don’t know. I expect, though, he’ll be against it, he’s so careful.” Polly went over and sat down by the little girl before leaving. “Don’t worry, dear! Maybe Sardis will say yes--who knows!” “He would if he was some folks,” returned Mrs. Edmonson; “but he isn’t. I know just what his answer will be.” The brightness which had come into Dolly’s face vanished and left it listless and dull. Aunt Sophie, also, grew sad. “I hated to say that,” she whispered to Polly as she stood on the doorstep; “but I couldn’t let her go on hoping and hoping, as I was afraid she would. I wish she could go; but Sardis, though he’s smart as all creation, acts kind o’ foolish sometimes. I’ll let you know soon ’s I hear. I can telephone from the grocery store.” Polly was more disappointed than she at first realized. She was indignant with this brother of the queer name. To think anybody could be so pig-headed as to refuse to believe what her father asserted as truth. If it were only he that would suffer through hot August, instead of sweet, frail little Dolly! He must be an ignorant fellow, this Sardis. Polly said to herself that she would like to tell him what she thought. It wouldn’t be very flattering to his judgment. She wondered if she could induce him to be sensible if she should write herself; but finally she decided to wait. Nearly a week passed, but no word came from the little far-away New Hampshire town to the Children’s House of Joy. At last Polly was so anxious that two days before the morning of starting for Overlook she drove out to Prattsboro.