At the time named Polly was at the foot of the hill road, but the children were not in sight. After waiting a long ten minutes she drove ahead slowly, keeping a sharp lookout on all sides for a little girl and a cart and a littler girl. Yet her watching brought her no sight of them. At last, she was about to go back to the place she had started from, when she heard a clatter from behind, and in a moment a horse and wagon appeared, and she saw the familiar face of Grocer Jack and received the information that they thought they could never catch up. On the seat beside the man were Oscarlucy and a fairy-like little creature with big sky-blue eyes and a mop of fly-away, sunny hair. “You see,” explained Oscarlucy, “Mr. Jack had to carry a barrel of flour ’way up to James Street, and that’s why we didn’t get there early enough. We were so afraid you’d keep right on, and we couldn’t get you. Mr. Jack said he knew it was you, because you’ve got such an easy number on your car. I’m glad you have,” she sighed, “or we never should have known it was you.” Polly said that she was glad of the number, and she smiled to the little fairy and thanked Grocer Jack. Then the children were transferred from the grocery wagon to the automobile and Polly learned that the tall grocer could be as gentle in the handling of a frail child as he was nonchalant in the lifting of a heavy barrel. Her esteem for him increased accordingly. “Isn’t Rosalind beautiful?” asked Oscarlucy, after they had talked of the flowers and ferns alongside the mountain road. Polly was somewhat startled at this frank question, and she simply nodded and smiled over the head of the little one. “’Most everybody thinks I’m beautiful,” said the object of her sister’s question; “but grandmother says it is only my hair and my eyes that are so pretty, and that it is a good thing to have something nice when I can’t walk at all.” “Indeed, it is,” responded Polly, adding, “and I think that your hair and eyes are lovely.” “I am glad you do,” returned the tot, “for Oscarlucy was so afraid you wouldn’t. She wants me to have something, you know, to make up for the other. I guess God hadn’t the heart to make me so I couldn’t walk and then give me straight black hair and green eyes--like our kitten.” Polly smiled, and somehow managed to give a satisfactory response. What manner of five-year-old was this who talked with such charming unconsciousness about her own beauty and gave voice to original opinions respecting her Creator? Adroitly she led the conversation to other topics. Throughout that long afternoon Benedicta was not in sight; but Lilith whispered to Polly that the housekeeper was preparing a most delicious-looking luncheon, which in due time appeared on the veranda,--“a truly party tea” Grissel confided to Jozy. And Grissel knew.