“You shall hear about it,” he answered. “I had been to visit a sick man, and was on my way home--something more than two miles from the station. I had just looked at my watch and decided I had time enough and to spare to go to my boarding-place and get my bag before the train would be in, when a little woman darted out of a house and called to me. Her baby had been taken sick and she didn’t know what to do. Her husband was out of town for the day, and she didn’t dare to leave the child to go for a doctor. She was frantic, and with good reason. The baby had had one convulsion and was on the verge of another. It happened that I knew something of what should be done; so I applied the usual remedies, and in a few minutes the little fellow seemed better. Then I went for the doctor, only a mile off, and fortunately found him home. His horse had gone lame, or he would have been away visiting patients. We went back together, and he said the child was doing all right then. The mother begged me so hard to stay with her that I hadn’t the heart to leave her alone. So, you see, my visit up here had to be postponed.” “And is the little baby all right now?” asked Dolly, who had become greatly interested in her brother’s story. “He appeared to be when I saw him this morning.” “Did you go ’way out there before you came up here?” she asked. He nodded. “That wasn’t too much to do for a very nice little woman and a very nice little baby, was it?” Dolly shook her head. “No. I’m glad you went, because now I know the baby’ll get well. Sardis is always doing things like that,” she added, directing her remark across to Polly. “‘Things like that’ are the things that we all of us ought to do,” returned Polly. “I can’t,” said Dolly softly. “That isn’t your part,”--Polly took the small hand in hers. “What is my part?” she asked thoughtfully. “Just being sweet as a little flower,” replied Polly, smiling down into the wistful face. “And that is exactly what you are,” she added truthfully. A look of pleased surprise came into the blue eyes. “Do you really mean it, Miss Dudley?” “Really and truly!” “Then, please let me kiss you.” Polly bent her head, and Dolly put up her arms and drew her still closer. “I’m glad you said that now,” she whispered softly, “’cause I want Sardis to know you think it. You are so dear!” Polly was strangely touched, and quick tears sprang to her eyes. She found herself wondering if Sardis Merrifield had heard the whispered words. As if it mattered whether he had or not! After the children were asleep and Benedicta had said good-night, the others sat on the moonlit veranda, and merry talk had its way until late. Finally when the five stood together before separating for the night, the visitor said:--