Polly went away thinking hard. What had occurred to make Benedicta forget one of the most important purchases--Benedicta who rarely forgot anything? And was it only pride that caused her to try to hide it? But for Marietta Polly would have dwelt longer upon the housekeeper’s singular behavior. The visitor gave her hostess plenty of food for thought, and that not of the pleasantest kind. “I never would have believed that you could be satisfied with this dead existence,” Marietta remarked with emphasis, as the girls sat together on the bank of the brook that ran back of the house. “Dead!” Polly repeated, a tiny scowl fretting her smooth forehead. “Anything but that, I should call it.” “Well, not much like what you have been accustomed to. I should die to be shut out from everything, the way you are up here.” Polly’s cheeks grew red, and a queer little smile came and went. “I think it is a beautiful thing to help little children to be better and happier; don’t you?” Marietta gave a short laugh, and lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, of course, if you put it that way. I’d rather be excused--at my age. It is all right enough for those who are on the shelf.” Polly could not trust an answer. The red on her cheeks deepened, and if Marietta had seen her eyes at that moment she would have discovered an ominous dash. Marietta, however, was flinging pebbles in the brook and was watching the rings they made. How long the uninvited guest would have remained at Sunrise Chalet if Sally Robinson had not come over with the announcement that her room was vacant and waiting for her is uncertain. As it was, she went home with Sally, not at all to Polly’s displeasure. She had felt that she could not bear the strain of being constantly on the watch for what Marietta would say next about David. It had been an unpleasant experience from first to last, and she wondered over and over what had been the girl’s object in coming. Benedicta was plainly glad that the visitor was gone; but in these days she said little about anything, her forbidding silence being remarked upon by everybody, from the White Nurse down to Little Duke. CHAPTER XX THE TELEGRAM Grocer Jack was in the kitchen, and Benedicta called, “Miss Polly!” The man greeted her with the smile that he usually wore. “Good-morning,” he said. “You’re goin’ to have comp’ny!” “Am I?” she asked in surprise. “One visitor has just left. Who else is coming?” “Wal,” replied the grocer, “all I know is what Richmond told me, jus’ ’s I was startin’ out.” “Richmond?” repeated Polly questioningly. “Yere, ’xpress agent, ticket agent, freight agent, telegraph operator--all hands in one. He said he had a telegraph for you, an’ you was goin’ to have comp’ny, he guessed, comin’ on the quarter-of-twelve train this noon.” “But why didn’t he send me the telegram?” Polly’s eyes were wide with amazement. Grocer Jack puckered up his mouth and raised his eyebrows.